


Sight

by cywscross



Category: Bleach
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Gen, Language, Liberties with mixing my own ideas with canon explanations, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-05-12
Updated: 2014-08-20
Packaged: 2018-01-24 11:26:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 69,370
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1603463
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cywscross/pseuds/cywscross
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ichigo can see ghosts. He can see Shinigami and Hollows, and that’s fine with him, if not always safe. But he kind of wishes that he doesn't also see Zanpakutou spirits. All Zanpakutou spirits. Because apparently, no one else can.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own anything from Bleach.
> 
> This is the big-ass oneshot-that-ended-up-not-a-oneshot that I mentioned on my tumblr several months ago. It’s still not finished yet but people have been asking about it so I’ve decided to post what I do have. This is the first chapter, and I’ll go with weekly updates over the next five weeks.

 

                The first time Ichigo realized that there was something not quite right about himself (even by his standards), it was right around the time Rukia hopped through his window in the middle of the night, a sword at her waist and demanding to know if Ichigo could see her.

 

                And then Ichigo got a crash course about Shinigami and Hollows and the like, and while he absorbed all the information (and her abysmal drawings) with growing interest, he was more intrigued by the pale-haired woman dressed in white and light blue clothing drifting just behind Rukia’s shoulder. She was very beautiful – in a slightly eerie sort of way – and, if her expression was anything to go by, she seemed equally surprised that Ichigo was staring straight at her.

 

                _:You can see me?:_ The woman enquired, and her voice, while soft and refined, inexplicably reminded Ichigo of falling snow on a winter day.

 

                He didn't answer right away, eyes darting back to Rukia for an explanation, but the girl hadn't even twitched, still scribbling away at a new page in her sketchbook as she mumbled sulkily about how rude Ichigo had been when he had told her that her pictures sucked.

 

                “Oi,” Ichigo curtly drew her attention away from her sketches and jutted his chin at the woman. “Who’s that?”

 

                Rukia blinked at him, craned her head around, and Ichigo didn't need to ask to see the way her eyes slide right past the ghostly figure hovering in the air. “Who’s who?”

 

                _:She cannot see me,:_ The woman piped up again, a smile that was equal parts amused and somewhat frosty lighting her features. _:Once they have learned our names, it is only possible for Shinigami to hear us when they are not directly communicating with us in our inner world. You... You are unique. You can_ see _me. How curious.:_

 

                Ichigo’s mind reeled but he made an effort to scowl and shake his head when Rukia looked back at him with a weird look. The Shinigami huffed, studying him suspiciously before shrugging and returning to whatever she was drawing.

 

                Ichigo’s gaze flicked back to the woman, who smiled again, looking rather inquisitive, and floated a little higher. _:I am Sode no Shirayuki, Rukia-sama’s Zanpakutou. It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Kurosaki-san.:_

 

                Ichigo managed a nod and – to be polite because this lady seemed nice if a bit cold, and she unnerved him just a little – bowed back clumsily when Rukia wasn't looking.

 

                Still, he wondered why he could see her if even Rukia – being a Shinigami – couldn't. And Sode no Shirayuki was _her_ Zanpakutou. But he didn't ask Rukia – he was enough of a freak for a Human; he didn't need a Shinigami to realize that he was a freak amongst them as well.

 

                In the end however, there was no time to ask, no time to even _apologize_ , because Ichigo ended up taking almost all of Rukia’s powers, and the pained cry that Sode no Shirayuki emitted even as Ichigo tried to _stop_ , tried to cut off the transfer process, would haunt him for months to come.

 

                Afterwards, when the Hollow had been destroyed and Rukia had been securely integrated into Ichigo’s home and school, he asked, quite a few times, whether or not Rukia would regain her powers, if she was absolutely certain that her Zanpakutou would return.

 

                Rukia only gave him an odd look, more exasperated each time as she repeatedly assured him that she would be fine, and that Sode no Shirayuki would be back once she was fully recovered.

 

                Ichigo could only breathe a sigh of relief. When Sode no Shirayuki returned, he would apologize. And he made a mental note to never try his hand at taking another Shinigami’s powers ever again.

 

* * *

 

 

                Even before his mother had died, Ichigo had been getting fairly good at hiding the fact that he could see things that pretty much no one else could see. The only problem had been that he hadn't always been able to tell the difference between a Hollow and a Human if said Hollow had a Human form.

 

Masaki’s death had only cemented Ichigo’s resolve to differentiate between the two, and over the years, he only got better at walking past the ghosts wandering the town and not making eye-contact with them when he was in public.

 

So hiding his ability to see Zanpakutou spirits wasn't all that difficult, even when he was around disturbingly perceptive people like Urahara. Heck, the shopkeeper hadn't even given him any I’m-on-to-you looks so Ichigo would count that as a win.

 

Instead, his predicament was the Zanpakutou spirits themselves.

 

_They wouldn't leave him alone._

 

_:I know you can see me, you insolent child. How dare you ignore me?:_

 

Ichigo gritted his teeth as he hauled one of the cardboard boxes off its place on one of the shelves in the back room. In between training (and mentally panicking over Rukia’s impending execution), Urahara had bullied him into helping out around the shop, and since the man _was_ training Ichigo, it wasn't as if Ichigo could refuse no matter how much he complained.

 

Ghostly fingers brushed the back of his head, sharp nails nicking his scalp, and with a muttered curse, Ichigo spun around and glowered irritably at the figure behind him.

 

“Would you stop that?!” He hissed, voice pitched low even in the privacy of the room he was in. Urahara could pop up at the most inopportune times.

 

The slender, regal woman before him, face half-hidden behind a red eye-mask decorated with delicate lines of gold, and dressed in crimson from head to toe, stared back at him derisively. Even while staying in one spot, her long scarlet hair – only a few shades darker than her clothing – fluttered around her as if an invisible breeze was constantly at her side.

 

In Ichigo’s opinion, if Sode no Shirayuki had been elegance and beauty personified, then Benihime was akin to ferocity and majestic lethality combined. Not that he’d ever tell Benihime that because her infuriating penchant for trailing after Ichigo and demanding his attention more than made up for any admiration he could've felt for her.

 

In that, Benihime was very much like her wielder. Neither seemed to be able to _stop_ annoying the shit out of him.

 

“Look,” Ichigo continued, grasping onto what little patience he still had for this haughty spirit. “It’s not like I can talk to you with other people around. It’s not exactly _normal_ , is it? Even for a Shinigami? And I'm a Human to boot; it’s already weird enough for me to be running around as a Shinigami!”

 

Benihime sniffed, disdain entering her expression. _:You are no mere Human, child. What a ridiculous notion! Have you nothing but air between your ears? Why do you not question how you came to be? Do you think it is truly so easy for a Human to be born with the ability to see Shinigami and Hollows? With the exception of the Quincy, even those other children have had need of a trigger to build up enough reiryoku to be able to see as clearly as you do.:_

 

Ichigo blinked, feeling a little dumbfounded at her impromptu rant. And then his brain caught up and he scrambled for words and his mind raced. “Wait, what do you mean how I came to be? I was just born with it, like my sisters. What-”

 

_:Figure it out yourself!:_ Benihime snapped patronizingly. _:I certainly will not tell you since you insist on being so thick. Now, hurry up with those boxes. Didn't Kisuke tell you to bring them to him as quickly as you can? It’s been five minutes; you're so slow!:_

 

Ichigo would've thrown up his hands if he wasn't holding the aforementioned box, and with as nasty a glare as he could muster in the spirit’s direction, he picked up the other box as well and marched out of the room.

 

“ _You're_ the one who wanted me to talk to you!” He growled, stalking past her. It took every last drop of his self-control not to shout at her when a hand cuffed his head from behind. It didn't hurt per se, the blow somewhat cushioned as if Benihime was only hitting him with a pillow, but he had never met such a high-maintenance person.

 

_:Mind your manners, child,:_ Benihime told him arrogantly as she swooped past him. _:And I expect you to talk to me from now on. However, you may refrain from doing so when other people are present; be grateful for my generosity.:_

 

“Generosity my ass,” Ichigo muttered under his breath as he swept down the hall. Slightly louder upon catching the rather foreboding downturn of Benihime’s lips, he grumbled, “Why do you want me to talk to you anyway? If you're bored, go talk to Urahara-san. He’s your _wielder_.”

 

Benihime actually deigned to float down to his level, green eyes studying him critically through her mask. _:Kisuke does not always have time to talk to me; he certainly cannot spare enough of it to meditate and enter our inner world to see me while_ you _are still here, so you have the responsibility of keeping me entertained. Besides, I have never talked to another being before. You are an anomaly. You cannot expect me to leave something like you alone, can you?:_

 

Ichigo growled. “I’m not a _thing_. And don’t call me an anomaly! Or a child!”

 

Benihime only flounced off, disappearing around a corner even as she called back, _:I will call you a child because you are one. And an impudent, unruly child at that.:_

 

By the time Ichigo reached Urahara, he was in a foul mood, and he shoved the boxes into a startled shopkeeper’s arms with more force than strictly necessary.

 

“Something wrong, Kurosaki-san?” Urahara enquired, looking more amused than concerned. Above him, Benihime tossed him a superior smirk, and Ichigo had to force himself not to throw something at her. _Hollows_ didn't give him half the attitude this spirit did.

 

“Nothing’s wrong,” Ichigo bit out through a tight jaw. “But if there was, I’d blame you.”

 

Because obviously, it was all Urahara’s fault that his Zanpakutou spirit turned out to be someone like Benihime.

 

Without another word, Ichigo whirled around again and hightailed it out of there before Urahara could lambaste him with another job.

 

He gave thanks that at least Tessai’s Zanpakutou didn't seem all that inclined to talk to him, though the shadowy figure (Ichigo actually hadn't been able to make out more than a vaguely humanoid shape) that had stood steadfastly at Tessai’s shoulder had nodded politely at Ichigo when the spirit had figured out that he could see it. After that, Ichigo had only caught the occasional glimpse of it since it seemed to prefer staying out of sight.

 

And he had only seen Yoruichi’s Zanpakutou spirit flitting at the edges of his vision, never really staying still long enough for Ichigo to pinpoint it.

 

Now why couldn't Benihime be like them?

 

* * *

 

 

                Seireitei was like a freaking zoo, except with an array of Zanpakutou spirits instead of animals. Then again, there were several animal-like spirits wandering around. Renji’s, for one, couldn't seem to decide whether to stick to a baboon with a monkey’s tail or its humanoid equivalent. Their squabbling made Ichigo _very_ glad that they weren’t _his_ Zanpakutou.

 

                After the invasion, after stopping Rukia’s execution, and (to top it all off) after Aizen’s spectacularly dramatic betrayal, Ichigo found himself waking up in a soft bed in a quiet room.

 

                He almost screamed when he found himself staring up at a slim humanoid figure covered in bandages and wearing a very long light green hood. He couldn't make out a face.

 

                As it was, he yelped and jerked sideways, arms flailing as he rolled away, and then promptly fell off the bed and crashed onto the floor, taking his blankets and half the contents of his bedside table with him.

 

                Which meant that the jug of water that had been sitting on said table came tumbling down on top of him, drenching him from head to toe.

 

                Spluttering and choking, Ichigo ran a wet sleeve over his eyes, trying to figure out where he was as he squinted up at the woman approaching him with a serene expression and a faintly bemused glint in her eyes.

 

                “Uh-” Ichigo managed as his gaze darted between the dark-haired woman and the cloaked figure drifting a few steps behind her. Relief flooded him when he spotted Zangetsu standing in one corner of the room, shrouded in shadows but watching everyone in the room with careful eyes. When Ichigo caught his gaze, the older man offered only the slightest of nods but it settled Ichigo like nothing else could.

 

                “Kurosaki-san, I do hope you do not always wake up like this,” The woman admonished lightly, and Ichigo quickly looked back at her again as she extended a graceful hand to assist him.

 

                Ichigo reddened but hesitantly (because he had been an enemy of Soul Society not too long ago and this woman, no matter how nice she looked, gave off the vibe that she was not to be fucked with) accepted the helping hand and allowed her to pull him back onto his feet.

 

                “Sorry,” He said sheepishly, glancing briefly past the woman and making sure to include the spirit as well because it wasn't exactly its fault that its looks sort of creeped Ichigo out. “I'm still a bit- uh... keyed up.”

 

                The woman inclined her head, leading him back to the bed and gently but firmly pushing him back into it before bustling away for the folded black Shihakushou that Ichigo now identified as his own on another table.

 

                “Understandable,” The woman nodded as she came back. “I am Unohana Retsu, captain of the Fourth Division. You have been under my care for the past three days.”

 

                “That long?” Ichigo blurted out, and then hastily tacked on, “Uh, I mean, thank you for taking care of me but what happened to Rukia? Renji? Hanatarou and Ganju? And my other friends?” He paused, recalling who had been badly hurt. “And Byakuya? Is he alright? And that wolf guy too I guess-”

 

                He stuttered to a halt when Unohana raised a hand to stop him, a thoughtful expression passing over her face as she scrutinized him.

 

                “Kuchiki-san is fine, as are Abarai-fukutaichou, Yamada-san, and those who entered Soul Society with you,” Unohana revealed calmly. “All our captains, including Komamura-taichou, are also in good health or on the mend. Kuchiki-taichou is still confined to bed rest but he will make a full recovery as well.”

 

                Ichigo figured that ‘the wolf guy’ was this Komamura-taichou, and he made a mental note not to go around calling the guy a wolf again. After all, that captain had worn that huge helmet before he had flipped out over Tousen’s defection; he was probably uncomfortable with his looks or something.

 

                “Great,” He said instead, tugging distractedly at the wet hospital gown clinging to his skin. He wondered if he should ask about Aizen and the whole desertion thing but decided against it. It wasn't any of his business, not really, and just because the Shinigami had stopped trying to kill him didn't mean they were all buddies now. He doubted Unohana would tell him much about any future plans regarding Aizen anyway. “So am I allowed to leave or...?”

 

                Unohana nodded once more, handing over his clothes, along with a pouch that clinked in Ichigo’s palm. “Please refrain from attempting anything strenuous for the next few days, and I suggest a shower and some food – there is a cafeteria on the first floor, or you may find a restaurant elsewhere. Other than that, you are free to go.”

 

                Ichigo didn't need to be a genius to recognize what the pouch in his right hand contained. “Wait, Unohana-san, I can’t take-”

 

                The words withered on his tongue as Unohana’s expression took on a shadowed cast even as she continued smiling passively back at him. “I insist, Kurosaki-san. You cannot roam around Seireitei without some means of currency.”

 

                Ichigo gulped, glancing once more at the cloaked spirit who suddenly looked ten times more menacing, and hastily nodded. “Yes, ma’am.”

 

                Unohana nodded one last time, seeming pleased as she left with her spirit gliding after her.

 

                Ichigo shook his head. Holy shit, it should be illegal to be that scary without moving a single muscle.

 

                He cocked his head and tentatively felt around for any foreign reiatsu signatures (he still wasn't all that good at it yet). Finding none, he released a breath and turned to Zangetsu. “You alright? No lasting damage?”

 

                Zangetsu nodded, coming forward, black overcoat flowing fluidly around him. _:I am fine. You were in capable hands for the past few days.:_

 

                Ichigo quirked a rueful smile as he clambered to his feet, making a mental note to clean up the floor as best he could before he left. “Unohana-san doesn't seem like the type of person who would accept anything less than the best so that’s a given. I'm surprised they didn't assassinate me while I was out though. You know, for the whole invasion thing.”

 

                _:You helped uncover a coup,:_ Zangetsu pointed out. _:Granted, it was Aizen Sousuke’s plan to reveal himself at this stage anyway, but you helped prevent the possible deaths of quite a number of Shinigami, the younger Kuchiki included. I doubt Aizen had planned to keep her alive after retrieving the Hogyoku. And had you not arrived in time, the Sixth Division lieutenant would have undoubtedly been killed as well.:_

 

                Ichigo ran a hand through his hair, shoulders no longer feeling quite as tense. “Yeah, I guess you're right. Okay, let me just take a shower, and then we can get outta here. I-”

 

                A ringing cackle from behind him cut him off, and Ichigo swiveled around, almost tripping over his feet in his haste.

 

                There was no one there, yet he _knew_ that sinister laugh.

 

                Ichigo instinctively reached for the Zanpakutou leaning innocently against the bedside table. “Oi, Zangetsu-”

 

                _:There is nothing to fear, Ichigo,:_ Zangetsu cut in, and Ichigo glanced nervously over at the spirit. _:If you know yourself, if you accept yourself, then there is nothing to fear.:_

 

                What the hell was that supposed to mean? Ichigo sighed in frustration but aborted his move for his Zanpakutou. Zangetsu was always so cryptic when he wanted Ichigo to learn something, but the old man didn't look worried so Ichigo supposed he could put it out of his mind for now.

 

                He sighed again and headed for the adjacent bathroom. After leading an invasion, he _deserved_ some down time.

 

* * *

 

 

                Seireitei was huge.

 

                Ichigo hadn't been consciously aware of that the first time around, too busy racing against time and those idiotically law-abiding Shinigami to stop and enjoy the scenery so to speak.

 

As he wandered down one busy street though, Zangetsu a step behind him on his left, he noted the numerous restaurants and housing areas and even shopping districts.

 

It was lucky that lower-ranking Shinigami didn't seem to have learned their Zanpakutou’s names yet, Ichigo mused idly as he scanned the groups of nondescript people wearing standard Shinigami uniforms wandering about (they didn't look or even _feel_ very strong).

 

He was more than a little adept at pretending he couldn't see what everyone else couldn't see but he was still uncomfortable with walking _through_ a spirit in the few times that he couldn't avoid it and the spirit itself hadn't moved out of the way. For some reason, unless Ichigo intentionally _wanted_ to, he couldn't touch the spirits, and vice versa, which was actually pretty handy.

 

Ichigo had actually walked through Zabimaru twice (he was fairly certain that the baboon-snake hadn't guessed that Ichigo could see them since Ichigo himself hadn't given any such indication), and he’d even had to lean through Ikkaku’s Zanpakutou spirit to double-check that the guy hadn't been about to kick the bucket after their battle.

 

(He was secretly glad that Houzukimaru hadn't seemed to notice that Ichigo had been able to see him either since even one solid blow from that giant – even in its injured state – would've definitely hurt, and the spirit had looked pretty pissed at Ichigo and even more concerned over Ikkaku.)

 

Ichigo rounded a corner onto a quieter street, and Zangetsu quickened his pace to draw even with him. _:What of that teahouse, Ichigo? It looks less crowded, a quiet place, but well-maintained.:_

 

Ichigo nodded his agreement, and then glanced curiously at the older man. “Can you guys actually eat and drink?”

 

Zangetsu tilted his head in a contemplative manner, and then smoothly produced his own jar of sake out of nowhere. _:As you can see, we have no need to even if we did require food and drink, which we do not, and I personally have never tried, but I believe so.:_

 

“Huh,” Ichigo shrugged, heading for the teahouse. “Okay then, I’ll get us a corner table or something so you can try. Could be fun, right? Plus I'm starving. If you can’t eat it, I’ll finish everything off for you.”

 

If Zangetsu had been anyone else, Ichigo knew the man would've rolled his eyes.

 

* * *

 

 

                As it turned out, Zangetsu _could_ eat – and drink – though the spirit had remarked that his own sake tasted better. Ichigo just made sure that his body was angled so that nobody saw a floating pair of chopsticks in the air.

 

                _:We have company,:_ Zangetsu warned him when Ichigo was halfway through a plate of takoyaki. _:No, don’t turn around. Distinguish their reiatsu.:_

 

                Ichigo scowled, lowering his chopsticks. “It’s always training with you,” He groused, but obeyed, brow crinkling as he tried to sense who had just entered the establishment. There were two of them, and they weren’t familiar like Rukia or Renji but Ichigo was sure he had at least felt this reiatsu in passing before.

 

                And they felt strong. _Really_ strong, even though their reiatsu was muted.

 

                “Captains?” Ichigo deduced hopefully, voice lowering to a murmur when he felt the two reiatsu signatures advancing towards him. “Uh... two of the captains who were on the Soukyoku Hill. Not Unohana-san or Byakuya. I don’t think it’s the old guy either; the Captain-Commander I mean.”

 

                Zangetsu didn't quite smile but his expression was one of approval even as he shifted out of his seat and stationed himself in the windowsill instead, sake cup in hand. _:Not bad. Next time, be sure to identify them by name.:_

 

                Ichigo only had time to flash a quick grin before a friendly voice from behind him called out, “Kurosaki-kun, I see you’re out of the Fourth. You have fully recovered then?”

 

                Ichigo stiffened a little even as he twisted around in his seat, and at first, all he saw was a duo of pink and white. And then his head tipped back to take in the new faces, and it only took him a moment to recognize the two captains who had been responsible for destroying the Soukyoku. The white-haired one he had met even before that.

 

                And then, of course, there were the _four_ spirits hovering around them.

 

                Or maybe just two, Ichigo reflected as he swiftly took in the two blades at the pink guy’s waist. Two swords, one spirit split into two, one Zanpakutou.

 

                He gave himself a mental shake before the silence got awkward and hastily nodded a greeting, momentarily wondering if maybe he should stand up to greet them, and then dismissing that idea because the time for that had passed at least five seconds ago. “Yeah, I have. Unohana-san just told me to take it easy for a few days.”

 

                He paused when neither captain looked like they were going to nod and bid him goodbye anytime soon. Inwardly sighing, he gestured somewhat stiltedly at the opposite seats. “Do you want to join me? You're here to eat, right?”

 

                “We’d be happy to,” The white-haired captain beamed as his spirits – children for God’s sakes, and twins at that; what exactly did that say about their wielder? – giggled in the background. “And yes, we were busy with repairs earlier so we’ve only now had time for a late lunch.”

 

                They slid onto the empty bench as Ichigo surreptitiously examined the pink guy’s spirits. Both were women, though the younger-looking spirit with only one green eye visible looked perpetually bored with everything around her, while the other, dressed like one of those courtesans back in the day, reminded him a little of Benihime in the regal, proud way she held herself, except she looked far more laidback, and she even nodded cordially in Zangetsu’s direction as she settled in the air a few feet beside her wielder’s head.

 

                Ichigo turned his attention back to the two captains as they settled finished sitting down, each of them picking up a menu, and he figured, after an uncertain moment on his part, that these two had apparently forgotten that Ichigo didn't know who they were.

 

                Huh. How embarrassing. Still, better get that out of the way now.

 

                He cleared his throat, and then had to fight down an uncomfortable flush rising in his cheeks when he found himself on the receiving end of two expectant looks. He ran a restless hand through his hair. “I'm sorry but I don’t- really know who you are. I mean, I know you destroyed the Soukyoku, and you're obviously captains, but I don’t know your names.”

 

                Both captains blinked and traded a surprised glance before huffing a laugh between them.

 

                “We apologize,” The white-haired Shinigami said at once. “We thought someone had already pointed us out to you at some point since you didn't seem too confused earlier when we entered. I am Ukitake Juushirou, captain of the Thirteenth Division, and this is Kyouraku Shunsui, captain of the Eighth.”

 

                The pink guy – Kyouraku – nodded a greeting, smiling genially at Ichigo even as the man’s spirits turned to give him a onceover. Out of the corner of his eye, Ichigo watched as the younger one looked wholly indifferent while the older one had gained a calculating gleam in her visible eye.

 

                Ichigo nodded in response, leaning back and casually sweeping an eye over the twins as well. They paid him no mind, playing with each other as they clambered over the back of the bench that the two captains were sitting on.

 

                “Right, nice to meet you,” Ichigo offered briskly. “Uh, you already know who I am.”

 

                Well, he’d never claimed to be any good at conversation.

 

                “Of course,” Kyouraku looked faintly amused but his Zanpakutou spirit – the older one – hadn't stopped observing him with a speculative eye. “I daresay most of Seireitei knows who you are. And the friends you brought along. They are very loyal to you.”

 

                Ichigo softened just a bit without meaning to. “Yeah, I guess, but they were here for Rukia as well.”

 

                Kyouraku hummed noncommittally as Ukitake flagged down a waitress and placed their orders. “Mm, the one I met might disagree with you there. He insisted he came to save a girl he barely knows because you decided to.”

 

                Ichigo instantly knew who the captain was talking about. “You bumped into Chad? He’s... well, that makes sense, I suppose. We made a promise when we first became friends. He was just keeping it.”

 

                And Ichigo made a mental note to thank them all later, Chad and Inoue and even Ishida, because none of them had been all that close to Rukia, and they hadn't _had_ to come.

 

                Speaking of which...

 

                “How is Rukia?” Ichigo turned to Ukitake, remembering that this one was her captain. Unohana had said that Rukia was fine but...

 

                “She has already returned to work, though she is only allowed on light duty for now,” Ukitake smiled almost fondly – and just a touch wistfully if Ichigo was honest – at him but Ichigo was abruptly, intensely aware of the fact that the man’s Zanpakutou spirits’ sole attention was entirely on him all of a sudden. Especially when the twin boys vaulted forward and stopped an inch from his face.

 

                He couldn't help it; he jerked back.

 

                He caught a glimpse of Zangetsu straightening from his previous lax perch on the windowsill, eyes narrowing behind his sunglasses.

 

                And _both_ of Kyouraku’s spirits were looking at him now.

 

                Aw crap.

 

                Up until now, Ichigo hadn't really questioned why none of the spirits (sans Zangetsu) who knew that he could see them – Sode no Shirayuki (though granted, she hadn't had much time to do so), Tessai’s spirit, and especially Benihime – hadn't told their wielders about him. He’d let that go though, mostly because Tessai and Urahara were allies so even if they had found out, Ichigo was fairly certain that they wouldn’t do anything bad to him, but the Shinigami in the Gotei 13 were a different matter altogether. Unohana’s spirit knowing wasn't something Ichigo could take back either at this point.

 

                For some reason however, neither of Kyouraku’s spirits moved an inch, the younger one cocking her head at him in a vaguely cat-like manner while the older one smirked at him and finally looked away, turning to prod Zangetsu for a cup of sake instead. Zangetsu stared for a second before shrugging and handing one over.

 

                Ichigo felt like facepalming. Why were spirits so damn weird?

 

                “Kurosaki-kun, are you alright?” Ukitake’s voice snapped his focus back to the two captains, and he managed a strained smile in their direction even as he raised a hand to push the twins away from his face, pretending to gesture at the window in the process.

 

                The twins blinked at him before looking at each other, and then both broke out into playful snickers.

 

                This did _not_ bode well for Ichigo.

 

                “I'm fine,” Ichigo assured as he tried not to let his eyes stray to the two spirits prowling towards him once again. “I just remembered I had to do something later. Nothing too import- ow!”

 

                One of the twins had managed to amble within arm’s length, and the brat hadn't wasted any time reaching out and yanking on a lock of Ichigo’s hair from behind so that the way his hair suddenly lifted was hidden from the captains’ view.

 

                Now both Shinigami across from him were looking slightly alarmed.

 

                “Stubbed my toe,” Ichigo lied glibly, shifting in his seat as he tried to bat the twin away without any particularly conspicuous motions.

 

                The boy who had yanked on his hair giggled to his twin, voice rising excitedly. _:Look, look! If we dyed his hair_ _black, he’d look like Kaien!:_

 

                Who the hell was Kaien? Heck, did it even matter? Ichigo just wanted them off!

 

                He tossed a fleeting, meaningful look over at Zangetsu, who looked far too amused for Ichigo’s taste, but fortunately, the man acquiesced and reached out to pluck one of the twins away from Ichigo’s head. To his surprise, Kyouraku’s older spirit also complied, one well-manicured hand darting out to snatch the other twin away.

 

                _:Let go, let go, let go!:_ Both twins whined, squirming in the other spirits’ firm grip. _:We want to play with him! Orange-Kaien, don’t you wanna play with us?:_

 

                Ichigo frowned. Kaien again. He wracked his memory; hadn't Ukitake himself look startled when the man had first laid eyes on Ichigo? When he had tried to grab Rukia that first time, the white-haired captain had looked... shocked when Ichigo had appeared, almost like he had seen a ghost.

 

                Did he really look so much like this Kaien guy?

 

                “Kurosaki-kun, are you sure you are alright? Do you need to go back to the Fourth?”

 

                Ichigo snapped out of his daze, dragging his gaze away from the gathering of spirits all congregated by the window. Ukitake looked openly concerned now but Kyouraku was – to Ichigo’s horror – glancing between him and the window with a puzzled air about him.

 

                “I'm fine,” Ichigo repeated once more, and thanked whatever god was listening when the captains’ food came. “You enjoy; I just need to go to the bathroom. Be back soon!”

 

                And without a backwards glance, he fled the table, forcing himself to a quick walk instead of the fast sprint he felt like throwing himself into.

 

                Ducking into the men’s room at the back of the restaurant, Ichigo barely had time to turn around before all five spirits came piling inside, the twins bouncing towards him and latching onto his arms as the other three phased through the wooden door at a more sedate pace.

 

                “What do you think you’re doing?!” Ichigo exploded, instinctively curbing the worst of his temper since he was dealing with – for all intents and purposes – children. “You're gonna get me in trouble! Or thrown in the loony bin, depending on how crazy I look!”

 

                The elder of Kyouraku’s spirits tsked, glancing distastefully at the urinals and sinks before focusing on him. _:Do mind your manners, boy. Sougyo no Kotowari simply likes to play. They’re relatively harmless unless you truly anger them. Mischievous, certainly, but not dangerous. Not much anyway.:_

 

                “Oh I feel a lot better now,” Ichigo retorted sarcastically, but he made an effort to quell his irritation. It wasn't this spirit’s fault, and she _had_ helped him out earlier. “Okay then, what can I call you and who is this Kaien guy that these brats keep babbling on about?”

 

                The woman scanned him loftily before sighing in a resigned manner and drifting forward so that she now stood a foot in front of Ichigo. She was taller than he was, just a little.

 

                _:We are Katen Kyoukotsu, she and I,:_ The woman gestured between herself and her younger counterpart who was hanging back away from the group. _:But I suppose, if you must, you may refer to her as Katen, and myself as Kyoukotsu. You may refer to Sougyo no Kotowari as anything you wish since you will not be able to tell them apart anyway.:_

 

                Ichigo glanced down at the laughing twins with a disgruntled expression. They were pretty much indistinguishable, and they were still hanging off his arms.

 

                _:As for Kaien,:_ Kyoukotsu continued. _:Hmm, well, Shiba Kaien used to be the Thirteenth Division’s lieutenant until he was killed several decades ago.:_

 

                Ichigo was more than a little bewildered. “O... kay, so what does that have to do with me?”

 

                Kyoukotsu actually rolled her eye. _:You look like him, you silly boy. He had black hair and green eyes but other than that, you two are nearly identical.:_

 

                Oh. So basically, Ukitake was simply reminded of this Kaien character when he looked at Ichigo. Wonderful.

 

                Wait.

 

                “Did you say Shiba?” Ichigo enquired, thinking of Kukaku and Ganju and their subtle and not-so-subtle aversion to Shinigami. “What exactly happened to him?”

 

                But Kyoukotsu only shook her head this time. _:If you want the details, you will have to ask someone else. I have nothing more to say on the matter.:_

 

                Oh, Ichigo was planning on doing just that. Something wasn't quite adding up here. What were the odds that he looked almost exactly like a dead Shinigami from who knew how many decades ago? And hadn't Benihime told him that he was no mere Human, that he should question how he came to be, how he – and Karin – could see ghosts so clearly without any outside help or triggers?

 

                The ability had to have originated from somewhere, right?

 

                And since he _and_ his sisters could see them, Yuzu’s ability admittedly weaker but still there, maybe it was... hereditary?

 

                Huh. His father was in for it when Ichigo got home.

 

                _:Ichigo, you have been in here long enough,:_ Zangetsu interrupted his thoughts. _:The captains will become suspicious.:_

 

                Ichigo sighed in exasperation, lifting his arms. “They’re already suspicious, and what the hel- what am I supposed to do with these two? And actually, come to think of it, why haven’t any of you told your wielders about me? I mean, the Gotei 13 would probably want to know, if only because all organizations hate _not_ knowing things.”

 

                Kyoukotsu shrugged elegantly, already turning away. Katen had already disappeared through the door again. _:In the end, every spirit’s first priority is our wielders’ safety. We care not for your rules and laws and all that other meaningless drama. Besides,:_ The woman glanced back, a smirk tilting her lips. _:I have lived for a very long time, and even I have never encountered someone like you. You are certainly more interesting than my tedious wielder who only lazes around all day.:_

 

                Ichigo sweatdropped and promised himself to never repeat that in front of Kyouraku. The man might feel offended.

 

                “Wait, what am I supposed to-” Ichigo groaned quietly as Kyoukotsu disappeared as well, literally leaving him with an armful of kids. Zangetsu remained by the door, lounging against the wall with an air of amusement about him.

 

                _:Orange-Kaien, play with us!:_ One of the twins piped up once more. _:You can see us! You can see us! Kaien couldn't, nobody could, but you can! Let’s play, Orange-Kaien!:_

 

                “Okay, first of all, my name’s Ichigo, not Orange-Kaien,” Ichigo sighed in defeat and crouched down so that he could bend to the children’s level. “And secondly, I can’t play right now, but,” He added hurriedly when both boys looked ready to pitch an epic fit. “If you come find me later, when I'm _alone_ , I’ll play with you, alright?”

 

                He knew – from Benihime following him around and demanding attention – that spirits didn't have to stick beside their wielder all the time, though they only seemed to be able to leave their wielder for Ichigo. They weren’t exactly free to wander around all of Soul Society whenever they pleased. He didn't know if they could cross into another world entirely though; he fervently hoped not or he’d probably be hounded even after he got back to Karakura Town again.

 

                (What Ichigo couldn't understand was why they – mostly just Benihime really, and now Sougyo no Kotowari – couldn't seem to stay in their respective inner worlds instead of bugging him all the time.)

 

                The twins traded another wordless glance before scaling Ichigo like a tree and settling on his back, but they made no move to yank his hair again or be particularly difficult.

 

                “’Kay! But you promised!” The twins chimed before falling into loud whispers, evidently wanting to stay clinging onto Ichigo’s back but were relenting on the playtime front.

 

                For now.

 

                Ichigo rolled his eyes and got to his feet again, scowling at Zangetsu’s entertained expression. “Laugh it up. It would serve you right if they decide to play with you next.”

 

                Zangetsu’s deep chuckles followed him out of the bathroom.

 

                “Everything alright?” Kyouraku was the one who asked this time as Ichigo returned to the table, Ukitake’s spirits hanging off his shoulders.

 

                “Yeah, no problem,” Ichigo said as he slid back into his seat. “How’s the food?”

 

                He spent the next half hour pretending not to notice the considering looks from both Ukitake and Kyouraku.

 

* * *

 

 

                Ichigo ended up walking with the captains towards the Thirteenth, Ukitake having offered to lead him there to meet Rukia so that Ichigo wouldn't get lost along the way.

 

                Ichigo was content to listen to the two captains conversing about various issues in Seireitei, giving him little pieces of information about the place they lived in. They always managed to coax him into voicing his own opinions, and Ichigo had more than enough questions about Soul Society in general to keep the older Shinigami occupied.

 

                Around them, the spirits meandered along at their own pace, Katen wandering on ahead while Kyoukotsu fell into step beside Zangetsu, and the twins tumbled over each other as they scampered from one side of the road to the other.

 

                In Ichigo’s opinion, it must've been really boring for them to wait around in their inner worlds for their wielders to need them or communicate with them if they all seemed to prefer to kick back out here.

 

                He glanced over at Ukitake when the man started coughing again, one pale hand coming up to cover his mouth, and Kyouraku automatically reached out to steady his friend with a hand of his own.

 

                “That... sounds kinda bad,” Ichigo said carefully when Ukitake subsided again, eyeing the captain closely.

 

                Ukitake offered an apologetic smile. “I have had it almost all my life. I'm afraid not even Unohana-taichou can do anything about it.”

 

                Ichigo cocked his head, mentally reviewing a few of the medical books that he had read in times of extreme boredom when he had had nothing better to do (and his dad had been too crazy for him to deal with so Ichigo had fled to the empty clinic for some peace and quiet). He wondered if illnesses manifested somewhat differently in Shinigami, maybe sticking around for longer periods of time without killing them, and while he’d be the first to agree that healing Kidou was amazing, Ichigo had also seen enough of Soul Society to realize how... well, backwards it was.

 

                “Have you tried Human medicine?” He suggested, pushing past the uncomfortable awkwardness he was feeling at poking his nose into someone else’s business. Still... “They’ve advanced pretty far.”

 

                Both Ukitake and Kyouraku were staring at him now, and Ichigo was relieved that at least neither of them looked offended.

 

                “Human medicine?” Ukitake echoed slowly. “That has never really come up. As I understand, they use herbs and such to heal their patients.”

 

                Ichigo choked a little, and he had to bite down on the inside of his cheek to stifle a bout of disbelieving laughter. Oh jeez, these Shinigami.

 

                “That was a long time ago,” Ichigo informed them. They had all slowed to a stop by this point. “You haven’t really been down to the Human World in a while, have you?”

 

                Ukitake shook his head, a curious light in his eyes. “No, captains rarely leave Soul Society unless a true emergency arises, and most Shinigami simply finish their designated mission before returning immediately afterwards. Rukia was an exception.”

 

                “Oh,” Ichigo frowned in thought before forging onwards. It was what he did best after all. “Well maybe you should check it out in your spare time. Your sickness – you obviously have coughing fits pretty regularly, right? Especially when you exert yourself too much? Do you have fevers? Or weight loss and a lack of appetite during those fevers?”

 

                Ukitake looked somewhat taken aback at the rapid-fire questions, and it was Kyouraku who responded this time, grey eyes intent. “Yes he does, to all of those. Are those recognized symptoms?”

 

                Ichigo’s brow furrowed even more as he dredged up the lines of text that he’d only half-memorized. He had never actually thought he’d need them; the books had just been light reading. “Uh, it could be a little different for Shinigami but I'm guessing Pneumonia, Tuberculosis, or lung cancer. First two are pretty easy to cure compared to other diseases; lung cancer’s more complicated, but like I said, I don’t know how Shinigami would react to certain treatments.”

 

                He paused as the two captains glanced at each other, an entire conversation passing between them in a span of a few seconds without ever saying a word, before they turned back to him.

 

                “I’ll consider it, Kurosaki-kun,” Ukitake promised, another smile – more genuine this time instead of the patented patient one from before – curving his lips. “Thank you.”

 

                Beside him, Kyouraku was staring at Ichigo like he was the most fascinating thing he had come across in a very long time. It was distinctly unsettling being on the receiving end of it.

 

                Ichigo shrugged self-consciously, rubbing the back of his neck. “No problem. If you do decide to get a checkup or something, come down to Karakura and ask... well, you can ask anyone to point you to the Kurosaki Clinic.”

 

                “Oh?” Something flitted across Ukitake’s expression, too quick for Ichigo to read, but he cheated by glancing over at the twins again. Both had quieted and were watching Ichigo with the same intensity as they had when Kaien had cropped up the first time around.

 

                Fantastic.

 

                “Your family runs a clinic then?” Ukitake enquired.

 

                “Yeah,” Ichigo weighed his words. “Or, my dad does.”

 

                He thought it prudent not to bring up too much about his family.

 

                “And who is your father?” Kyouraku asked curiously, tilting his sakkat back absently.

 

                Too much interest.

 

                Hm.

 

Maybe Ichigo should’ve directed Ukitake to the Karakura Hospital instead.

 

There was no way he could avoid this question though, unless he lied, and maybe Ichigo was just being paranoid.

 

He opened his mouth to answer, only to be interrupted by a familiar voice bellowing his name.

 

“ICHIGO!!”

 

Ichigo wasn't sure whether or not he should curse his luck.

 

As the screaming reached his ears, he cursed it.

 

_:Ichigo, stay calm,:_ Zangetsu was at his side in an instant, one warm hand curling gently around the back of his neck to ground him. _:Ignore it.:_

 

Ichigo swallowed harshly, unable to stop himself from backing up a few steps until he was partially standing behind Kyouraku, practically using the captain as a shield.

 

Not that it helped stave off the shrill cries resounding in his ears.

 

He had almost died fighting Zaraki Kenpachi because the crazy bastard’s Zanpakutou _would not stop screaming_.

 

It had distracted Ichigo badly throughout the entire fight, and he had already been having enough trouble fending off Kenpachi’s insane reiatsu and attacks as it was. If it hadn't been for Zangetsu keeping up a constant stream of soothing words in his mind to drag him away from the agonized shrieks that no one else could hear, Ichigo would probably be dead right now.

 

The screams got louder as Kenpachi approached, grinning madly, and Ichigo stumbled a little as he moved away again, trying to tune out the noise.

 

How the fuck could Kenpachi not hear that?

 

Another, more solid hand clasped his elbow, and Ichigo started when he realized that Kyouraku was frowning down at him with apprehensive perplexity. With some effort, Ichigo straightened and stood his ground, furtively shaking off the Eighth Division captain in the process.

 

                “There you are, Ichigo,” Kenpachi strode up, Yachiru-free and blade still thankfully tucked away as the spiky-haired captain nodded curtly at the other two Shinigami. “Ukitake-taichou, Kyouraku-taichou. Mind if I borrow Ichigo for a bit? I want my rematch.”

 

                Ichigo felt Zangetsu’s hand tighten around his neck, nowhere near enough to hurt him but enough that Ichigo understood that the spirit was displeased.

 

                “It doesn't matter if they mind or not,” Ichigo cut in before either captain could reply. “I'm not fighting you again; once was enough. Besides, Unohana-san said I had to take it easy.”

 

                Even Kenpachi faltered minutely at the mention of Unohana, and in that moment, Ichigo had never been more grateful to anyone in his life.

 

                “Damn, are you sure?” Kenpachi looked close to sulking. “Well when are you completely healed?”

 

                “Not for at least a week,” Ichigo fired back without batting an eye. Anything to stay away from Kenpachi’s Zanpakutou. “Probably two. Three if I'm unlucky and I strain something.”

 

                Kenpachi stared at him. “What? That’s a long-ass time! Hell, you’ll probably be going home by the end of the week!”

 

                “Yeah, well,” Ichigo flapped a hand in the air. “Good thing I don’t want to fight you anyway.”

 

                Kenpachi glowered, peering doubtfully at Ichigo. “Are you sure you're not completely healed? You’re not lying to get out of fighting me, are you?”

 

                “Of course not,” Ichigo said bracingly. Involuntarily, his eyes drifted to Kenpachi’s Zanpakutou again.

 

                _:You cannot do anything to help, Ichigo,:_ Zangetsu said quietly, accurately predicting Ichigo’s train of thought. _:This is something a Zanpakutou and its wielder must work out by themselves.:_

 

                _:Utterly disgraceful,:_ Kyoukotsu cut in with her own input, looking disgusted and sympathetic all at once. _:A Shinigami unable to hear his own Zanpakutou. Downright shameful honestly.:_

 

                The twins had scooted back to crowd behind Ukitake, hands covering their ears, and Katen had disappeared altogether, most likely escaping into her inner world instead for some reprieve.

 

                “We could always test that out,” Kenpachi was saying now, one hand dropping to the hilt of his sword as he eyed Ichigo slyly.

 

                Ichigo bristled, sucking in a fortifying breath. “No means no, Kenpachi. Now if you don’t mind, I have to get going. I'm on my way to see Rukia.”

 

                Kenpachi cocked his head. His grin widened. “Get past me first then.”

 

                Ichigo didn't bother drawing his own Zanpakutou as the bloodthirsty captain hurtled towards him, sword unsheathed. He had no desire to cross blades with Kenpachi’s Zanpakutou ever again, at least not until Kenpachi learned its name. The screaming was bad enough; whenever Ichigo had deflected a blow or fought back against a flurry of strikes with Zangetsu, he had actually been able to feel the pain that the Zanpakutou spirit had been in. Feeling that again was not on his to-do list.

 

                So he dodged. Anyone would when they saw Kenpachi careening towards them like an out-of-control juggernaut.

 

                But as it turned out, he didn't really need to.

 

                “Now, now, there isn’t any need for that,” Kouraku cut in, literally, drawing one of his blades to block the oncoming attack with enviable ease. The captain didn't even blink, still smiling affably as if the downward assault he had just stopped didn't hold all of Kenpachi’s feral strength and weight behind it. And the man hadn't even bothered activating Shikai.

 

                Ichigo was kind of glad that Kyouraku hadn't been one of the Shinigami he had had to fight. He wouldn't have stood a snowball’s chance in hell.

 

                “You know how Unohana-taichou gets when anyone under her care doesn't follow her instructions to the letter,” Ukitake added mildly, one hand landing on Ichigo’s shoulder as he began ushering Ichigo away. “Remember what happened the last time she was... unhappy with you, Zaraki-taichou?”

 

                Kenpachi backed off, grumbling under his breath at whatever memory Ukitake had brought up, but the Eleventh Division captain nodded grudgingly, sheathing his sword again. “Fine, but you owe me a fight the next time we see each other, Ichigo!”

 

                “Like hell I do!” Ichigo shot back, only to earn an exasperated look from Ukitake as the man steered him away.

 

                “Don’t go riling him up even further, Kurosaki-kun,” Ukitake chastised with a sigh.

 

                Ichigo huffed, gaze lingering on Kenpachi’s Zanpakutou until they turned a corner and the captain was out of sight.

 

                “I take it you did not enjoy your battle with Zaraki-taichou,” Ukitake observed dryly.

 

                Ichigo snorted, and then released a short breath as the screams grew distant before vanishing completely. “Well, he _was_ trying to kill me.”

 

                He stalled for a second, glancing at Kyouraku’s Zanpakutou before looking up at the captain. “Didn't that... hurt?”

 

                Kyouraku blinked, a faint frown creasing his brow. “Hurt? No, of course not, I fully deflected that attack. Nothing to worry about.”

 

                Ichigo glanced away, eyes finding Kyoukotsu. “Oh. That’s good.”

 

                _:I think it goes without saying,:_ Kyoukotsu told him with a strange expression on her face. _:That you are far more sensitive to spirits in general than anyone else. Typically, when Shinigami cross blades, they can sense, faintly, what their opponent wants through their Zanpakutou, what their heart is trying to convey. You on the other hand can also sense what the spirit is feeling. Most Shinigami and their Zanpakutou are attuned in battle, yes, but that doesn't mean they are feeling the same thing. In fact, more often than not, they aren’t. I myself am frequently in disagreement with this lazy oaf over here even when we are fighting together.:_

 

                Ichigo’s mouth twitched, one that fortunately went unseen by the two Shinigami walking beside him.

 

                “Ah, here we are,” Ukitake announced after they had turned onto yet another street. “My Division is just up ahead.”

 

                Ichigo perked up. Both Unohana and Ukitake had reassured him about Rukia’s health status but Ichigo still wanted to see for himself.

 

                And he had a spirit to apologize to. He hadn't forgotten.

 

* * *

 

 

                “Ichigo! You’re out of the Fourth!”

 

                Ichigo grinned, breaking out into a quick jog when he caught sight of Rukia just coming down a flight of steps leading down to the courtyard he had just entered. Even from this distance, she looked much better, features no longer haggard and stressed, and she was smiling freely without the anxiety that had marred her expression ever since Renji and Byakuya had gone to retrieve her all those weeks ago.

 

                “Yo, Rukia!” Ichigo raised a hand in greeting as he hurried forward to meet her. “Yeah, I just got out a few hours ago. Unohana-san gave me the all-clear. You look better too.”

 

                Rukia rolled her eyes but smiled up at him. “ _I_ haven’t overexerted myself to the point of being laid out in a hospital bed for days on end like you. You're so reckless, Ichigo.”

                “Hey!” Ichigo had to smother another grin, more relieved than anything else, as they fell back into their usual easy banter. “I’ll have you know I had a plan.”

 

                Rukia practically reinvented the sardonic look she was currently sending him. “Oh really? Did that plan consist of anything beyond ‘defeat anyone who gets in the way’?”

 

                Ichigo scratched his head, scowling good-naturedly. “Hey, at least it worked. You haven’t been executed. Be a little grateful.”

 

                Rukia folded her arms bossily. “I _told_ you I wouldn't thank you for it. Don’t think I’ll change my mind.”

 

                Ichigo snorted. As if he could forget. They were each just as stubborn as each other.

 

                “Maa, a single meeting with Kurosaki-kun and you're in much better spirits already, Rukia-chan,” Kyouraku commented teasingly as he and Ukitake caught up.

 

                Rukia blushed but it faded quickly enough as she bowed respectfully to the two captains. “Good afternoon, Ukitake-taichou, Kyouraku-taichou. I was just beginning to worry that Ichigo was going to sleep for another week.”

 

                Ichigo scoffed, stepping back as the captains struck up a conversation with Rukia. He couldn't help noticing the way half the courtyard seemed to have stopped whatever they were doing, all of them glancing repetitively at Ichigo like they couldn't believe their eyes, all while pretending they weren’t.

 

                Exactly how alike was he to this Kaien guy?

 

                Well, it didn't matter. He’d make a trip over to the Shiba house sometime and ask Kukaku or Ganju for a picture.

 

                Instead, he turned his mind onto more important things, backing up a few more steps so that he was mostly out of hearing range of the others.

 

                And then he looked to his left, making sure not to move his mouth too much. “Hey.”

 

                Sode no Shirayuki bobbed her head gracefully, smiling kindly at him. She seemed to have thawed a little compared to the vaguely chilly demeanour that Ichigo remembered from when they had first met. _:Hello again, Kurosaki-san. I am glad to see you doing well.:_

 

                Ichigo grimaced a little. “Yeah, you too. Look, I'm really sorry about the whole taking Rukia’s powers thing.”

 

                Sode no Shirayuki was already shaking her head, hair flowing around her. _:You are not to blame for that. I know you did not do it purposefully. There is nothing to apologize for.:_

 

                “Still,” Ichigo insisted. “I heard you; it must've been really painful. So I'm sorry for that, at least.”

 

                The spirit laughed, a chime-like sound that she partially hid behind one wide sleeve. _:You are a strange one, Kurosaki-san. Very well, I shall accept your apology, and in return, I give my thanks for saving my wielder.:_

 

                Ichigo offered a lopsided smile at that one, but before he could say anything else, Rukia interrupted with a confused “Ichigo? Are you talking to yourself?”

 

                Ichigo spun around to face her, along with the other two Shinigami. “Of course not; why would I talk to myself? I’ve been stabbed a couple times, not concussed. Now how about you show me around? Unless you're still busy with work or something.”

 

                This successfully distracted Rukia, and she turned hopeful, questioning eyes on her captain. Ichigo knew the man wouldn't refuse, especially not now after her near-brush with execution.

 

                In contrast, Kyouraku was still watching him, eyeing the empty space where Sode no Shirayuki was still hovering.

 

                _:Do not underestimate my wielder, boy,:_ Kyoukotsu interjected with a wry smile. _:He is a clever, cunning man despite appearances, and while he would prefer diplomacy over violence in any situation, he would not hesitate to cut an enemy down should such actions become necessary. And the other one is nothing to scoff at either. Regardless of his kind nature, Sougyo no Kotowari’s wielder can be equally ruthless when times call for it. Kyouraku Shunsui and Ukitake Juushirou are two of the most dangerous individuals you will ever meet.:_

 

                Ichigo inwardly shivered. So getting on the wrong side of these two would definitely be a Bad Idea then. He hoped, in the future (because he just _knew_ that his dealings with the Shinigami weren’t over), that their ideals would never clash.

 

* * *

 

 

                Over the next few days, Ichigo saw at least glimpses of all the senior officers of the Gotei 13, and, of course, their Zanpakutou spirits as well, big and small. He even bumped into Toshirou and managed to annoy the crap out of him in the process (the faces the captain made were hilarious). He had also caught up with his friends, though he couldn't for the life of him understand why Ishida felt it necessary to whip up a whole new wardrobe for all of them.

 

                It had taken him a while to gear up the nerve to go visit the Fourth once more to see how Byakuya was doing. They weren’t enemies anymore but he was fairly certain that the Sixth Division captain still hated him, and to be frank, Sebonzakura scared the shit out of him.

 

                The samurai spirit was relentless in battle, but to Ichigo, the scariest thing about Sebonzakura was the fact that he had held zero animosity towards Ichigo, yet he had still almost killed him. The spirit had been like a machine because Ichigo hadn't been able to glean any emotions from him other than apathy, what with the mask and all. Byakuya had been the one with all the indignant anger and scorned pride underneath his icy facade, not Senbonzakura. The spirit hadn't been _mad_ at Ichigo like Ikkaku’s or even Renji’s had been.

 

                If Ichigo could just hold a mere conversation with the spirit, he was sure he could get a better grasp on what Senbonzakura was like, but he wasn't willing to risk his secret doing it.

 

                However, Ichigo wanted to at least exchange a few words with Renji before he left, and he knew that the lieutenant had been staying at Byakuya’s side as much as possible ever since the whole Aizen debacle had ended. Plus, he owed it to Rukia to at least make nice with her brother, so that meant sucking it up and heading back to the Fourth.

 

                It took him a while to find the right room (there were way too many hallways in his opinion), and the door was open so he saw Byakuya sitting up in bed, Renji in a chair several feet away, Zabimaru in its humanoid form wrestling with each other in the far corner, and Senbonzakura standing stoically at the foot of the bed before any of them saw him.

 

                Ichigo cleared his throat and knocked twice on the doorframe. All the occupants turned to look at him, though Byakuya didn't look particularly surprised so he at least had probably sensed Ichigo from all the way down the hall (then again, Byakuya wouldn't have shown any surprise even if he _had_ been surprised).

 

                Renji however jerked his head around and leapt up when he caught sight of Ichigo. “Oh, Ichigo! I heard from Unohana-taichou that you were out. Would've tracked you down earlier but you've been all over the place so...”

 

                He trailed off with a shrug, scanning Ichigo up and down. “Well, at least you don’t look like shit anymore.”

 

                Ichigo scowled at him half-heartedly. “ _You_ were in worse shape than I was, asshole.”

 

                Renji scoffed loudly. “You got your ass kicked by Aizen!”

 

                Ichigo thought this was highly hypocritical of the idiot. “You did too! _I_ saved you from getting gutted like a fish!”

 

                They glowered at each other before simultaneously relaxing and snorting with laughter. Ichigo caught sight of Zabimaru making faces at both of them, looking petulant but no longer enraged.

 

                “Well come on, tell me what you've been up to,” Renji urged, dragging him over to another chair before pulling up and seemingly recalling the fact that Ichigo and Byakuya had been trying to kill each other not too long ago. “Uh...”

 

                Ichigo took pity on him and nodded at Byakuya as politely as he could manage. “Hey, Byakuya. Unohana-san told me you're going to make a full recovery. When are you allowed out?”

 

                Byakuya’s eyes narrowed. “Tomorrow at the latest.” He paused. “I do hope you will not continue referring to me by my first name, Kurosaki Ichigo.”

 

                Ichigo blinked, glancing at Renji who looked like he was on the verge of a panic attack and was about as much use to him as a dead lemming. “Um, what do you want me to call you then? Byakuya-sama? Kuchiki-sama? I hope _you_ realize that there’s no way that’s gonna happen.”

 

                Byakuya pinned him with a flat stare. “Kuchiki-taichou is sufficient.”

 

                Ichigo mulled the title over in his mind before waving a hand. “Nah, just Byakuya is much better. Don't worry, you'll get used to it.”

 

                He shifted his attention back to Renji before Byakuya could turn him to ice with the power of his withering, lava-freezing glare alone. The redhead was looking at him as if he thought Ichigo had a death wish. In the corner, Zabimaru – both of them – was howling with laughter. Senbonzakura looked as aloof as ever but the samurai’s head remained turned in Ichigo’s direction as if he was still examining him.

 

                “So what’s been going on with you?” Ichigo prompted as he grabbed a stool to sit on and yanked Renji down into the other chair. “Besides staying in this room and doing your paperwork or whatever.”

 

                Renji hesitated, glancing once more at Byakuya, but when it became clear that his captain had decided to ignore them both, his shoulders became less tense. “Honestly, not much else. You sound like you've been having a lot more fun. What have you and your Human friends been up to?”

 

                Ichigo shrugged, leaning back in his chair. “Well, Ishida’s sewing like crazy – don’t ask me why; I think he thinks all our clothes are fashionably unacceptable or something. Chad and Inoue’s been roped into trying out the new clothes and being Ishida’s life-sized models. I think he’s even whipping up something for Rukia. I ducked out while they weren’t looking.”

 

                Renji guffawed. “That’s hilarious. I’d have thought they'd all be exploring.”

 

                “Apparently, they did that while I was out,” Ichigo said. “And I don’t think they really want to wander all that far considering everything that’s happened...”

 

                He motioned at the window in an encompassing gesture. Renji nodded his comprehension. After all the shit that had gone down, the last thing they needed was some gung-ho Shinigami cornering one of them alone and attempting to rough them up a bit for invading Soul Society even though all had been – officially – forgiven.

 

                “Where are ya headed next then?” Renji prodded, lounging back in his chair now.

 

                “Mm, back to the Shiba house,” Ichigo said briskly. “There’s something I want to talk to Kukaku about.”

 

                Renji frowned in confusion. “What about? Nothing too serious, right?”

 

                Ichigo scratched his head. “No, not really. Just... Ukitake-san has been...”

 

                Renji raised his eyebrows. “Has been...?”

 

                Ichigo scowled. “He’s been looking at me weird. I want to know why.”

 

                In his peripheral vision, Ichigo saw Byakuya stiffen.

 

                “Looking at you weird?” Renji parroted skeptically. “Are you sure it wasn't just your imagi-”

 

                He stopped. Looked at Ichigo. Looked hard. “Oh.”

 

                Ichigo straightened in his seat. “Oh what?”

 

                “Uh...” Renji glanced over at Byakuya who looked completely blank. “I suppose you kinda look like Shiba-fukutaichou. I didn't know him very well; I had just graduated from the Academy for a few years when he died. But he was Ukitake-taichou’s lieutenant before that so I guess that might be it.”

 

                Ichigo nodded slowly. Kyoukotsu had already told him as much but it was nice to have it confirmed by someone else.

 

                “Okay then,” He got to his feet, idly wishing he knew how to seal his Zanpakutou since the bulk of it was a bit troublesome. “I'm off.”

 

                “To the Shibas’?” Renji blinked at him, evidently startled by Ichigo’s abrupt declaration.

 

                “Yeah,” Ichigo confirmed. “Gonna see if I can get my hands on a picture of this Kaien guy. He can’t look _that_ much like me, right?”

 

                Renji shrugged, and Byakuya didn't say anything at all, so Ichigo waved goodbye to both of them, paying no mind to Byakuya’s frigid glower when Ichigo called him by his first name again, and then ducked out of the room.

 

* * *

 

 

                As it turned out, Shiba Kaien _did_ look almost exactly like Ichigo. However, Ichigo didn't get to ask about him.

 

                He had stumbled on the shrine when he had been wandering the house looking for Kukaku, only to find her sitting in front of it.

 

                “He was my older brother,” Kukaku had told him without turning around.

 

                That alone had pretty much killed any sort of interrogation that Ichigo had had in mind.

 

                But there was no way _anyone_ could look that much like Ichigo (or Ichigo look that much like anyone else) and _not_ be related, and that had piqued his curiosity. After all, he was Human. Granted, a Human turned Shinigami but he had been born Human.

 

                Right?

 

                And Kaien was a Shinigami through and through.

 

                So where did the resemblance come from?

 

                That question had brought him to the Seireitei Library. Rukia had pointed it out to him when she had given him a tour, and Ichigo figured that if he wanted information about clans, the library was the best place to start.

 

                One librarian, half a dozen deeply suspicious looks, and a trip up to the third floor later, Ichigo was seated at a table with a small pile of scrolls in front of him. The librarian had warned him that there were no ‘clan secrets’ placed in the library; Ichigo had told her that he wasn't looking for any. He just wanted to know if there were any lists of clan members stored in the place. The woman had still seemed mistrustful but she hadn't kicked up a fuss and had led him to a collection of general annals and chronicles open for public eyes, each filed by clan name.

 

                Ichigo had skipped right over the Kuchikis and Kyourakus and Shihouins ( _Yoruichi_ the _cat-woman_ was from a clan?) and a number of other clans before he found a small portion of the archives labelled _Shiba_ at the very end.

 

                The first piece of information he had found was that they had once been a big clan but, for some undisclosed reason, they had fallen from grace and had been booted out of Seireitei.

 

                When the librarian had said ‘general’, she hadn't been kidding. The records he found were mostly an overview of what the Shibas had specialized in (fireworks), what their clan symbol had been, what their formal clothing looked like, and even where their compound had been located, but nothing more concrete than that.

 

                Luckily for Ichigo, the family tree wasn't classified.

 

                And from there, it didn't take long to trace his way back through the clan heads, Kukaku being the current one, and _Shiba Isshin_ being the one before her, and apparently presumed dead, having been declared AWOL. His last rank before he had died had been captain of the Tenth.

 

_Holy fuck._

 

                The first thought Ichigo had, ridiculously enough, was that there was definitely a mistake. This Shiba Isshin was probably not the same guy as Kurosaki Isshin because, seriously, what kind of idiot out there would choose a moron like Goat-Face to take charge of a clan _and_ a squad?

 

                But of course, there was still the matter of Ichigo’s likeness to Kaien, so after ten minutes of futilely attempting to picture his father ordering people around and being relatively leader-like, Ichigo gave up, accepted it as fact for now, and moved on.

 

                It looked like Kaien had been the Clan Head before Ichigo’s father, and the guy was also Isshin’s nephew. Which made him Ichigo’s cousin. Which also made Kukaku and Ganju Ichigo’s cousins.

 

                There were dozens of other names Ichigo didn't know, almost all of them labelled deceased, but they weren’t really relevant right now anyway so he ignored them for the most part. Instead, he sprawled back in his chair, closed his eyes, and thought.

 

                He was Human – that was an indisputable truth.

 

                However, that also meant that at least one of his parents had to have been Human, which meant that if this family tree was right, if Kurosaki Isshin _was_ Shiba Isshin, then that meant Ichigo was part-Shinigami through his father.

 

                Which made his mother Human.

 

                Ichigo didn't need to go hunt down a law book to deduce the fact that marriage – or any relationship really – between Humans and Shinigami was probably illegal.

 

                So was Kurosaki Masaki the reason why his father had given up his life as a Shinigami? And if his father was a Shinigami, why hadn't Ichigo seen the man’s Zanpakutou spirit around? Isshin was definitely wearing a Gigai, had probably gotten it off of Urahara too, so did Shinigami in Gigai mean that their Zanpakutou spirits would be hidden as well?

 

                No, that couldn't be it; he had personally seen both Urahara and Tessai in Gigai, and their Zanpakutou spirits had still been flitting around.

 

                So did that mean Isshin _wasn’t_ a Shinigami?

 

                But Ichigo looked too much like Kaien to not be related in some way, plus what were the odds that his father’s name coincided with a dead Shiba Clan Head?

 

                His eyes snapped open and he scrubbed a hand over his face. Ugh, he was talking himself in circles.

 

                Well, when he returned to the Human world, he could hunt down his mother’s birth certificate and find out what her maiden name was. If it was Kurosaki, then that would be another point towards proving that his father really was a Shinigami, spirit or no spirit hovering around notwithstanding.

 

                One thing was for sure though. Ichigo was eighty percent certain that Kurosaki Isshin and Shiba Isshin were one and the same. The man had faked his own death to get away from the Gotei 13 since a relationship with a Human was most likely against the law.

 

                And Ichigo had, mere days ago, just told one of the most powerful Shinigami captains in all of Soul Society to visit his father’s clinic.

 

                Shit.

 

* * *

 

 

                When Ukitake offered him the Substitute Shinigami badge, Ichigo wasn't even looking at the man. Instead, he was watching Sougyo no Kotowari.

 

                The twins had nothing short of devious smirks on their faces, their expressions an odd mix of phony innocence and shifty-eyed guilt.

 

                Half a second later, Ichigo switched his focus back to the smiling captain in front of him.

 

                “Just a license, huh?” Ichigo sighed somewhat resignedly, wondering if deceit was a requirement for all Shinigami officers.

 

                “Yes,” Ukitake nodded amicably. “So you’ll be able to hunt Hollows officially in Karakura Town.”

 

                Ichigo squinted at the man, unable to make out so much as a twitch of discomfort. Behind Ukitake, Sougyo no Kotowari’s gazes had dropped to the ground.

 

                Ichigo sighed once more and accepted the badge.

 

                “Yeah, okay. Thanks.”

 

 

**Please leave a review on your way out.**


	2. Chapter 2

                _:So you're still alive.:_

 

                Ichigo grunted, not taking his eyes off the river in front of him as the cool night breeze sent a swell of gentle waves rippling across the water.

 

                _:Kisuke apologized. He doesn't apologize to anyone.:_

 

                Ichigo hummed an absent acknowledgement, one hand still wrapped loosely around the hilt of his Zanpakutou despite having lifted it off his back when he had chosen to sit down on the riverbank.

 

                _:Stop ignoring me!:_

 

                Ichigo rolled his eyes and finally glanced to his right, arching an eyebrow at the fuming spirit sitting beside him. “Shouldn't you be with your wielder?”

 

                Benihime flipped a dismissive hand in the air, crimson nails like darkened blood under the moonlight.

 

 _:I can reach him immediately if he needs me.:_ She paused before releasing a humourless laugh. _:Kisuke hasn’t needed me in over a century. He hasn’t even unsealed me in all that time until you came along.:_

 

                Ichigo hadn't the faintest clue what to say to that so he stayed silent, listening to the lapping water against the shoreline below instead.

 

                _:So?:_ Benihime was watching him impatiently now. _:Aren’t you going to ask me why I didn't tell you what Kisuke had planned?:_

 

                Ichigo frowned at her, confused. That had truly never occurred to him. “Well, he’s your wielder. You can’t betray him like that, even if he _is_ a manipulative bastard for planting the Hogyoku on Rukia. And it didn't work in the end anyway.”

 

                Benihime stared unblinkingly at him for a long disconcerting minute. And then she looked away and scoffed. _:Foolish child. Running off half-cocked without a single concrete plan in mind, and now, when – by some miracle – you have returned with your life intact, you still do not place blame where blame is due. Kisuke could have prepared you better, you know. He could have told you of the traitor’s genius and might, in addition to all the information of his schemes with the Kuchiki girl and the Hogyoku. He could even have told you of the strengths and weaknesses of the enemies you would have most likely come across. You came very near death, your comrades as well. Why do you not seek vengeance against my wielder?:_

 

                Ichigo eyed the spirit for a lengthy moment, trying to work out why Benihime was – for all intents and purposes – trying to alienate Ichigo from her own wielder.

 

                “I don’t know what you want me to say,” He confessed at last, leaning back on his elbows. “I've forgiven him already; you heard as much. I'm not the sort of person to hold grudges, and I don’t see any point in could-haves or should-haves. Urahara-san apologized for his actions; to be honest, that was more than I expected. I'm a straightforward kind of guy, Benihime. I didn't even really consider stuff like getting him to tell me all my opponents’ weaknesses so I could have an advantage. The best plan I had was ‘invade Soul Society, kick as many as asses as I have to, and hope for the best’. Besides, things worked out alright – I'm alive, my friends are alive, Rukia’s alive, and Aizen’s been outed as a traitor. You can’t get much better results than that.”

 

                Benihime looked like she couldn't believe what she was hearing. _:I cannot believe how stupid your mind works! You!:_ She turned a burning glare onto Zangetsu, who had been sitting quietly a few feet away. _:How can you allow him to get away with such careless behaviour? Do you want him to die?:_

 

                Zangetsu actually frowned, glancing back at Benihime with a sharp stern warning in his eyes. Benihime didn't so much as flinch, chin raised proudly, posture defiance personified. But she made no further accusations, her gaze averting back to Ichigo, and Ichigo guessed that this was about as much of an apology as someone like Benihime would ever give.

 

                _:Very well,:_ Benihime finished decisively. _:Since you do not know how to strategize, I will teach you.:_

 

                Ichigo did a double-take. “What?! Wait-”

 

                _:You cannot continually fling yourself headlong into danger and expect to come out on top,:_ Benihime lectured. _:Luck will not always be on your side, your strength may one day fail you, and when that time comes, you will have only your mind to depend on. What use would you be then if you are as dull as a brick, unable to think your way out of a trap?:_

 

                “You make me sound so stupid!” Ichigo complained, offended.

 

                _:You_ are _stupid,:_ Benihime sneered arrogantly.

 

                Ichigo growled, glowering at the annoyingly condescending spirit. “Hey, I figured out all that mumbo-jumbo you were going on about when you were asking me how I could see ghosts so clearly. Just because I can’t whip up contingency plans for contingency plans doesn't mean I'm dumb.”

 

                Benihime had cocked her head, red hair sliding over one shoulder like a curtain. _:Have you now? Then you know how you came to be?:_

 

                Ichigo flopped back onto the grass, keeping an eye on the spirit. “Mm, I'm pretty sure my dad used to be a Shinigami captain.”

 

                He didn't miss the tinge of approval that splashed briefly across her partially-masked features, and that really was all the confirmation he needed to realize that his findings up in Seireitei were all true.

 

                _:Hmm, not bad,:_ Benihime conceded reluctantly. _:Now you simply have to learn how to keep sensitive information to yourself.:_

 

                Ichigo groaned. “I am _not_ turning into the second coming of Geta-boushi, Hime!”

 

                Benihime blinked. _:‘Hime’?:_ She looked smugly pleased. _:Well, I personally prefer ‘Queen’ but ‘Princess’ will do since you insist.:_

 

                Ichigo rolled his eyes hard enough to nearly strain himself. “I was just cutting down on your name, idiot.” He ignored the screech of affront from the spirit. “I’d say don’t let it get to your head but I think it’s a bit too late for that.”

 

                _:You impertinent child!:_ Benihime scolded irately. _:Don’t speak to your betters like that! It would serve you right if I decide against teaching you now!:_

 

                Ichigo gave her a thumbs-up. “That’s okay with me.”

 

                He yelped when a slippered foot kicked him in the ribs. “Ow! Jeez, violent much?”

 

                _:You will learn strategy from me,:_ Benihime all but commanded. _:Kisuke has taken you on as his student-:_

 

                “Not really,” Ichigo muttered.

 

                _:-so it is only right that I do the same,:_ Benihime continued uncompromisingly. _:I consider it my duty.:_

 

                Ichigo scowled. “And how exactly are you going to teaching me? I don’t particularly want Geta-boushi knowing that I can talk to spirits, though if _you_ want to tell him, I won’t stop you either. But it would be more than a little fishy if he sees me conversing with thin air.”

 

                Benihime looked aggravated. _:It is none of Kisuke’s business if I wish to talk to you. He doesn't ask_ me _for permission to talk to other people. I will come to you. Perhaps when you fight Hollows. I will teach you how to pinpoint all their flaws, and you will target them instead of charging in and hacking away at them as I'm sure you are prone to doing.:_

 

                Ichigo heaved a sigh and hauled himself to his feet, stretching out the remaining aches that still lingered from all the training and life-and-death battles he had gone through. “Suit yourself, Hime; it’s too much trouble arguing with you. Now I'm going home; you better head back too. It’s late.”

 

                Benihime sniffed and told him rather haughtily that spirits didn't _really_ need to sleep, and that Ichigo was going to have to try harder if he wanted to get rid of her, and then she faded away, no doubt jumping back to Kisuke’s side without so much as a by-your-leave.

 

                And she had the gall to say _Ichigo_ was rude.

 

* * *

 

 

                Ichigo stuck his head through the door of his father’s office. “Hey, Goat-Face, can I talk to you for a minute?”

 

                For a startled moment, Isshin wheeled around in his chair and blinked at Ichigo as if he had no idea what his son had just spouted.

 

                Ichigo didn't blame him. The two of them ambushed each other with flying kicks (mostly Isshin) and yelled belligerent insults at each other (mostly Ichigo) but they didn't _talk_. They had barely ever sat down for even a simple how-are-you-doing-on-this-fine-day conversation (and that was only on occasion at the beginning right after Masaki had died) much less heart-to-heart chats, and Ichigo had certainly never instigated either of those.

 

                But this was important, and he’d already been putting it off for several days; what if Ukitake (and probably Kyouraku) popped up out of the blue one day when Ichigo was at school? He had already poked around the entire house and clinic when his father was there just to be absolutely positive that he hadn't _missed_ seeing his old man’s Zanpakutou spirit, and sure enough, there were no unknown figures floating around (although, twice, Ichigo could've sworn he had seen something flickering just out of the corner of his eye, a shadow that shouldn't be there and never was when he turned to look, but he couldn't be _certain_ ).

 

So, whatever had happened, either Isshin’s Zanpakutou spirit liked staying in its inner world all the time (and no spirit ever did as far as Ichigo had seen) or Isshin no longer had his powers – like Rukia – and it would be just Ichigo’s fucked up luck if certain Shinigami decided to pay a visit to the clinic when Ichigo wasn't there to defend his old man.

 

                (Or at least buy him enough time for Isshin to grab the girls and run because Ichigo was under no delusions about his ability – or lack thereof – to take down both Ukitake _and_ Kyouraku. He’d _die_ , simple as that.)

 

                “Of course!” Isshin shook himself out of his daze, goofy grin spreading over his face as he gestured at an empty chair. “Have you finally decided to come to your old man about girl problems?”

 

                Ichigo facepalmed but before he could vehemently deny this (even if he _did_ have girl problems, Isshin was the _last_ person he would go to), his father had spun away again and snatched up a framed picture of Masaki, sobbing loudly, “OH MASAKI!! OUR SON IS FINALLY GROWING UP!”

 

                “Oh my god, Goat-Face!” Ichigo shouted, slamming the door behind him and locking it for good measure (he had already flipped the CLOSED sign out front). “Do you always have to be so embarrassing?!”

 

                Isshin paid him absolutely zero attention, carrying on with his theatrics with dramatic aplomb. “THE DAY HAS FINALLY COME-”

 

                “Goat-Face-” Ichigo tried, one eyebrow ticking irritably as he made his way over to the empty chair.

 

                “-ICHIGO HAS FINALLY DEVELOPED AN INTEREST-”

 

                “Goat-Face!” Ichigo attempted once more, temper rising.

 

                “-IN THE FEMALE SEX-!”

 

                Ichigo snapped, his anxiety over whatever impending punishment would one day descend on his family ratcheting up to new heights (because he had _seen_ Soul Society’s laws in action; _Rukia_ had almost been _executed_ just because she had chosen to help Ichigo save his sisters). He smacked a hand against the desk, feeling the surface shudder underneath his palm as he barked, “Oyaji, for fuck’s sake, could you be fucking serious for one fucking minute?!”

 

                Instant silence descended on the room, and Ichigo almost drew back from the unexpectedly solemn expression that his father had taken on. The guy could honestly be bipolar.

 

                At the back of Ichigo’s mind, he noted that this man, sharp-eyed and focused, the one nobody ever really saw, could fit the role of a leader just fine.

 

                Outwardly, he took a deep breath and dropped into the available seat, watching as Isshin replaced Masaki’s picture on the desk before turning back to face Ichigo again.

 

                Ichigo spared a moment to pull his thoughts together. He knew the general gist of what he wanted to say to his dad but he hadn't quite figured out how to come out with ‘I know you’re a Shinigami’ right off the bat.

 

                Not to mention, even though he had solid proof, a last glimmer of doubt nagged at him – what if Ichigo was wrong and Isshin _didn't_ have anything to do with the Spiritual World?

 

                It also brought up the unwilling question of why his father hadn't said anything. Ichigo could understand the man not saying anything before Masaki’s death by Hollow, and he could even understand not telling him afterwards even though Ichigo had carried around that guilt ever since, but he would've appreciated it if Isshin had said _something_ when Ichigo had been dumped headfirst into a world he had barely any understanding of.

 

                But that was a thought for another time. Right now, there were more present problems to deal with.

 

                “Right, so,” Ichigo glanced up, hands clenching nervously on his knees. His dad was still staring at him, silent and without a trace of his usual brand of slapstick humour. “I think...”

 

He faltered, and then firmly told himself to suck it up and get a freaking move on. He felt Zangetsu’s presence at his back and relaxed minutely.

 

                “I think,” He started again, stronger this time. “You know what I’ve been doing for the past few months, ever since Rukia came.”

 

                He paused. His father’s face was unreadable, a disturbing change from his standard unreserved expressions.

 

                “So I'm just gonna jump right into this,” Ichigo continued, bullheaded as always. “And assume you used to be a Shinigami. I am too. I mean, you probably already know that.”

 

                Nothing. Jeez, Ichigo would really value some indication of how far off the mark he was right about now.

 

                “And I’ve been to Soul Society,” Ichigo forged on, voice tight. “And saved Rukia and did some other stuff along the way; not important at the moment. But, uh, afterwards, while I was recovering, I met some people and they were... well it was just this one guy, actually – Ukitake-san, captain of the Thirteenth? Anyway, there were a few times when he looked at me kinda weird, and I mentioned it to Renji... uh, he’s the Sixth Division lieutenant, and he said that I sort of look like the former lieutenant of the Thirteenth, one who had died several decades back.”

 

                Ichigo frowned when Isshin’s expression remained wooden. “I went back to Kukaku’s place and saw a picture of Shiba Kaien. Honestly, the guy could've passed as my twin.”

 

                He paused again. “So then I went to the library and looked up the Shiba Clan. The family tree’s still there by the way, even though the clan’s been booted out of Seireitei. And there was a Shiba Isshin there, former Clan Head, former captain, and presumed dead.”

 

                He stopped once more, running an agitated hand through his hair. “Thing is, before I figured out all this, I was with Ukitake-san and Kyouraku-san, and Ukitake-san was coughing pretty bad, so I suggested Human medicine because he sounded like he had Pneumonia or Tuberculosis or something. He ended up saying that he’d consider seeing a doctor in the Human World, and... well, I recommended you.”

 

                Ichigo halted, glancing briefly at Zangetsu who nodded with quiet encouragement. He looked back at his father. “...Oyaji, I kinda need you to say something. Am I making any sense here? Or are you going to check me into the nuthouse?”

 

                Isshin remained silent for another handful of nerve-wracking seconds before blowing out a gusty breath, tipping his head back, and dropping a hand over his eyes. “...Well, you certainly don’t pull your punches, son. I'm gonna kill Kisuke; he said you didn't suspect a thing. He’s losing his touch.”

 

                Ichigo shifted in his seat, scowling uncomfortably. “Great, I'm right. And you know Urahara-san. Of course you do. Hime said so...”

 

                His voice had dropped to a near-unintelligible murmur by that point but Isshin still caught the tail-end of it and the man arched a questioning eyebrow at him. “‘Hime’? Your orange-haired friend? Didn't know you had gotten so close-”

 

                “We’re not!” Ichigo growled, and he’d never admit how much the return of his father’s teasing grin relieved him. He could count the number of times Isshin had been serious over the years on one hand and still have fingers left over. “Don’t be a moron. What are you going to do now? Does Urahara-san have a Gigai that doesn't look like you?”

 

                Isshin’s grin faded a bit. “You only talked to Ukitake and Kyouraku about me?”

 

                “I told them that you run a clinic,” Ichigo clarified. “I didn't even tell them your name. Kenpachi had good timing; he interrupted.”

 

                Isshin grunted, absently rubbing his chin. “Okay, well, they might not even stop by.” He glanced at Ichigo sharply. “Why are you so worried that they're going to swoop down and clap me in chains or something anyway?”

 

                Ichigo snorted. “The Gotei 13’s labelled you AWOL before they decided you were dead, not KIA. Plus you married Kaa-san. I didn't need to find a law book to guess that that’s not exactly legal.”

                Isshin’s face pinched with distaste. “True enough. Fine, I’ll work something out with Kisuke. But those two captains... they’re more open-minded than the rest of the lot even though they're pretty damn old, and I don’t think they’d rat me out even if they saw me.”

 

                Ichigo shrugged and rose to his feet. It was up to Isshin now. Of course, he’d keep a closer eye on the clinic from now on as well, just in case his dad was wrong. It wasn't that he didn't like Ukitake and Kyouraku; for a couple of centuries-old Shinigami, they made for good company, and they didn't make him feel hopelessly dense when he had asked them a bunch of questions about how things worked in Soul Society.

 

                But this was Ichigo’s family on the line here, and while Isshin was an incurable idiot, and Ukitake and Kyouraku could probably wipe the floor with his ass twice over when it came down to it, Ichigo couldn't just stand aside and let them do as they pleased. Besides, this was his mistake; he never should’ve opened his mouth about his family in the first place, no matter how good his intentions had been. After all, he had been an enemy of the Gotei 13 only days earlier.

 

                “Oi Goat-Face,” Ichigo turned back abruptly, having already been halfway to the door since Isshin hadn't called him back. His gaze flitted around the room once more before he enquired, “Why don’t you have your Shinigami powers anymore?”

 

                Isshin froze for a split second before throwing a dry look in Ichigo’s direction. “What makes you think I don’t have them?”

 

                “That night Rukia arrived,” Ichigo worded cautiously. “That Hollow could've killed Karin and Yuzu. I figured, even if you were trying to test me or whatever, you still wouldn't have done nothing when they were in danger. But you didn't do anything so...”

 

                He trailed off, shrugging again. Isshin exhaled heavily through his nose, grumbling something about nosy brats.

 

                “...I gave them up a long time ago,” Isshin revealed at last, eyes distant. “For your mother. I don’t regret it.”

 

                Ichigo didn't have to be a genius to realize that there was a lot more to the story but his father looked reluctant to share anything else, though if the resigned expression he was wearing was anything to go by, then Isshin seemed willing enough to indulge Ichigo if Ichigo pushed for answers that – now that he was part of this world – he damn well deserved.

 

                Ichigo grimaced, stuffed his hands into his pockets, and then did the mature thing and strode for the door. He was reasonably satisfied with the sound of surprise behind him.

 

                “Don’t you want to know?” Isshin called after him. “About... everything?”

 

                Ichigo glanced back, more than a little peeved. Of course he did, and if his stupid dad didn't stop dangling bait like that, Ichigo might very well demand that Isshin tell all right this moment.

 

                “Of course I do!” Ichigo griped crossly. “But you obviously don’t want to tell me yet, and I'm sure you have your own reasons, so I’ll leave it alone for now. ...You will tell me one day though, right?”

 

                He glowered darkly at his father. The only answer he’d accept was a yes.

 

                Isshin looked taken aback but seemed to retain enough brain cells to nod. “...Yeah, I’ll tell you eventually.”

 

                Ichigo released a wordless sound of acknowledgement and reached for the doorknob. “Okay then, nice talk. I’ll be going now; I have grocery shopping to do.”

 

                And really, that was that. They’d be back to uppercuts and roundhouse kicks by sundown.

 

                “Ichigo.”

 

                Ichigo paused by the front door, one hand reaching up to flip the sign back to OPEN again. “What?”

 

                His father had followed him out and was leaning against the doorway of his office. To Ichigo’s astonishment, there was something almost like fond pride on Isshin’s face before it was gone again.

 

                And all around them, Ichigo felt a thrum of reiatsu that wasn't his own. He jolted. “You-”

 

                “They’re coming back,” Isshin explained, pushing off the doorframe. “I won’t be back to full power for some time yet but I’ll get there sooner or later.”

 

                Ichigo took all this in with half an ear. Most of his attention was focused above Isshin’s head instead.

 

                Because there, hovering like a wraith, not quite as corporeal as all the other spirits Ichigo had seen, was a figure dressed in a dark red overcoat, face obscured and not entirely formed yet. Its – His? – hair however seemed to be made entirely of fire, blazing like a lit beacon.

 

                Ichigo dragged his eyes back down and threw his dad a cocky smirk as he stepped outside. “Everything has to be slower with you, huh, old man? Don’t take _too_ long; when you get your powers back, I'm gonna kick your ass for keeping all these secrets from me.”

 

                He let the door swing shut behind him, muffling the sound of Isshin’s incredulous bark of laughter.

 

                He wondered what the spirit was called.

 

He hoped it wouldn't be as wearisome as its wielder.

 

* * *

 

 

                _:Let’s play! Let’s play! You promised!:_

 

                Ichigo groaned and flopped over in his bed, burying his face in his pillow as he valiantly tried to ignore the small hands tugging at his hair and shirt.

 

                Well, this certainly answered the question of whether or not spirits could jump directly to him even when he was in _another world_ altogether.

 

                “Go ’way,” He slurred sleepily. “It’s too early.”

 

                _:You promised! We even came when no one else is around!:_

 

                Ichigo swatted their hands away, obstinately keeping his eyes closed. “Later. It’s a Sunday; I wanna sleep in.”

 

                For a short while after, the persistent hands left and Ichigo thought the twins had gone.

 

                However, just when he was dozing off again, he caught the sound of mischievous giggles, and half a second later, a cascade of icy cold water rained down on him like a waterfall.

 

                “HOLY SHIT THAT’S COLD!!” Ichigo screeched, bolting upright and tumbling out of bed, teeth already chattering as his brain violently kick-started for the day. He rounded on the twins who were all but falling over themselves laughing. “You little brats! Ukitake-san’s gonna be lucky if I don’t string you up by your toes!”

 

                Both boys stuck out their tongues before scurrying out of the room. _:Now you're up, Ichigo! Let’s go play!:_

 

                Ichigo clunked his head against the edge of his desk. He shot a sullen glare at Zangetsu who was staring back at him with unabashed amusement from the windowsill. “Thanks a lot, spirit of mine.”

 

                Zangetsu chuckled. _:You should hurry before they come back with something worse, Ichigo.:_

 

                Ichigo sent him a dirty look before dragging himself to his feet, shivering as his wet clothes stuck to his skin. Once glance at his bed told him that his sheets were drenched as well.

 

Damn those kids.

 

* * *

 

 

                “Okay, what do you want to play?” Ichigo stifled a yawn, pulling on a clean shirt as he stepped out into the backyard. His sisters were at a sleepover – and probably still sleeping; lucky them – and had taken Kon with them, and his father had told the girls that he had a medical convention thing to go to but had dropped a word to Ichigo that he would actually be staying over at Urahara’s for a few days to put together a new Gigai.

 

                The house was empty, it was six-thirty on a Sunday summer morning, and the only ones insane enough to be awake at this hour were Ichigo, the brats, and a hundred or so birds.

 

                _:Kidou Tag!:_ Sougyo no Kotowari cheered enthusiastically.

 

                Ichigo frowned in consternation. “What’s Kidou Tag?”

 

                The twins’ grins were positively wicked. Ichigo backed up a step, eyeing them warily.

 

                _:We’ll be it!:_ One twin chirped. _:So we’ll only be allowed to shoot Hadou at you.:_

 

                “What?!” Ichigo yelped, more than a little alarmed. “Isn’t that dangerous?”

 

                The other twin smiled sneakily. _:Don’t worry; we can’t use very strong Kidou anyway. And you’ll only be allowed to use Bakudou to block us. Or you can dodge. If we get you, then you’re it!:_

 

                Ichigo threw his hands into the air. “I don’t know _any_ Kidou!”

 

                The twins blinked at each other, and then the twin on the left told him with a grin, _:Then we’ll be it for the entire game-:_

 

                _:-and you’ll just have to dodge!:_ The other twin finished before levelling a hand at him.

 

                Ichigo didn't even have time to protest before a rippling beam of blue light – something he’d seen from Byakuya – came flying towards him, and he had to dive to the side, scrambling behind a bush as the attack dissipated in the air.

 

                Considering the fact that Byakuya had shot a hole through him with the same attack, Ichigo was very grateful that this version seemed much more watered down.

 

                “I didn't even know Zanpakutou spirits could use Kidou!” Ichigo muttered to himself as he ran behind a tree, narrowly avoiding a small orb of red that promptly burst into a pillar of flames beside his head. The heat licked at his cheek, but to his relief, it only left his skin feeling tingly.

 

                _:Too slow! Too slow!:_ Sougyo no Kotowari sang, suddenly appearing behind him, and Ichigo tore off once more, fumbling in his back pocket for the Shinigami badge. He hadn't used it thus far having had no need to but this was an emergency. He didn't want to get fried by the sadistic duo.

 

                A second later, he was Shunpoing away, leaving his body on the deck before ducking away and blurring across the yard. Delighted laughter followed him, along with a blitz attack of lightning. Luckily for him, even when said lightning struck the ground, it didn't leave any marks behind. It would've been pretty hard to explain them away.

 

                “Ow! Dam- Darn it!” Ichigo growled as a Hadou spell sliced into his arm when he hadn't been fast enough to evade the twins double-teaming him, leaving a small scratch behind.

 

                Another burst of giggles followed in his wake when he did a stupid little twirl in midair to avoid a beam of white light streaking towards him, and then almost crashed headlong into a tree.

 

                The twins chortled with glee, skipping after him like evil little child demons.

 

                “I'm glad _someone’s_ having fun,” Ichigo sighed long-sufferingly just before he was blasted clean off his feet.

 

                It was going to be a long day.

 

* * *

 

 

                “Aw, come on!” Ichigo lamented as he pelted towards the Hollow looming greedily over a Plus. “Do we have to do this now? That kid’s about to be eaten!”

 

                Benihime crossed her arms even as she continued gliding along beside him. _:Of course. And since that’s the case, you better identify that Hollow’s weak points fast.:_

 

                Ichigo bemoaned his life in general but turned his mind onto the matter at hand. Weaknesses, weaknesses...

 

                “The abdomen area?” He voiced hopefully. “Since it’s not covered in bone armour like the rest of it? You know, I could just slice through its mask-”

 

                _:And how will you get around the spikes?:_ Benihime cut him off reproachfully. _:There are too many protecting its head for one clean hit to finish it off, and by the time you try for a second assault, it would already have retaliated.:_

 

                Ichigo heaved a sigh and leapt forward. “Fine, fine, I guess I’ll just cut it in half.”

 

                He made sure to stay in the Hollow’s blind spot, knowing he’d get ragged on by Benihime if he didn't, and then quickly sliced through the Hollow from behind, chopping clean through its abdomen. It disappeared with a guttural scream, clearly not expecting Ichigo’s ambush.

 

                _:For goodness’ sakes,:_ Benihime sounded exasperated. _:Put some grace into your movements, won’t you? You are not some butcher, for all that your Zanpakutou resembles a godforsaken meat cleaver!:_

 

                Ichigo rolled his eyes. Why was he stuck with the ability to see spirits like this? No one else could, not even his sisters.

 

                One Konsou later, Ichigo was stretching the kinks out of his back. “Great, I can go home now.”

 

                _:Indeed,:_ Benihime agreed evenly. _:I can begin teaching you how to react to various battle scenarios.:_

 

                Ichigo huffed. “I just spent the entire morning getting beaten up by a couple of kids who are far more sadistic than I ever gave them credit for. And then, the minute that they’re gone, the damn badge goes off and I end up having to run halfway across town to kill a Hollow. All I want now is a good soak in the tub and a hot meal.”

 

                _:Well,:_ Benihime levelled a stern look on him. _:Then I suppose you may have one hour to do all those things.:_

 

                Ichigo facepalmed. Apparently, spirits couldn't take a hint. “Remind me again why you're not nagging Urahara-san or something? _He’s_ your wielder, not me; you practically have an obligation to bug him.”

 

                _:He is busy,:_ Benihime dismissed, mouth thinning in an uncharacteristically bitter line. _:I believe he is making attempting to track the Hogyoku at the moment. Besides, he must sit down and meditate for any conversation to occur between us.:_

 

                Ichigo side-eyed her as he walked down the street. “Doesn’t Geta-boushi have people to spar with? I mean, Yoruichi-san and Tessai-san are there; you can’t tell me that they can’t push Urahara-san when facing them.”

 

                Benihime scoffed. _:What spars? A century of retirement has lulled them all into a false sense of security, no matter how much they believe otherwise. Before she accompanied you to Seireitei, the Shihouin woman hasn’t reverted to her Human form in almost a decade, and even before that, she remained in her cat form more often than not after her exile from Soul Society. I presume you have seen the speed of her Shunpo? I can assure you, one hundred years ago, Shihouin Yoruichi was much,_ much _faster. She_ earned _her title as the Goddess of Flash. Now I consider it utterly appalling how slow she is in comparison.:_

 

                Ichigo could well remember the swiftness of Yoruichi’s steps, and it was hard to imagine her even faster than that. He could barely match her top speed when he was in Bankai.

 

                _:And Tsukabishi Tessai has always preferred Kidou over Zanjutsu,:_ Benihime continued heedlessly. _:That man’s Kidou surpasses even Kisuke’s, it is a true phenomenon to see in action, yet he has barely performed a handful of Kidou spells since his exile until you arrived._

_:And my own dear wielder,:_ Benihime’s mouth twisted with scorn. _:With his experiments and schemes and guilt. Kisuke has fought more in the past month hauling you out of trouble and training you than he has in the past_ century _. Can you believe it? A man like him, cooped up in his lab, and a Zanpakutou like me, with nothing to do for one hundred years._ He _may enjoy his research and creations, but I – the embodiment of his soul – thrive in battle, in the blood of my enemies. Can you imagine the torture it has been for me to spend so many years in idle boredom?_

_:Of course,:_ Benihime added grudgingly. _:That isn’t to say that any of them are weak. Far from it; they are still captain-class Shinigami, most likely stronger than at least two-thirds of the current elite in the Gotei 13 right now. Standards have undoubtedly dropped ever since Aizen Sousuke rid Soul Society of half their best officers, resulting in weaker Shinigami being promoted too soon. By no means should my wielder or the other two, or each of their Zanpakutou, be underestimated,_ especially _me, but...:_

 

Her smile became tinted with just the slightest shadow of nostalgia. _:But once upon a time, Ichigo, we were magnificent.:_

 

                Ichigo stayed silent, chest tight with an odd pang of sympathy as he exchanged a glance with Zangetsu. Even the old man looked a little on the bleak side.

 

                Ichigo glanced back at Benihime. She looked deep in thought now, memories flickering through her eyes behind the ornate mask she always wore. He waited until she seemed to be back in the present before venturing, “What would Kisuke have to feel guilty about? And why were any of them exiled in the first place?”

 

                Benihime exhaled softly. _:What else? Through Aizen Sousuke’s machinations of course. And those three weren’t the only ones exiled. After what Kisuke did to you, I believe you'll meet them soon enough.:_

 

                Ichigo had absolutely no idea what she meant but the spirit refused to share anything else, floating on ahead and ordering him to pick up his pace.

 

                “Zangetsu?” Ichigo looked up at his own spirit. “What was she talking about? Why were they even exiled? And what did Geta-boushi do to me?”

 

                Zangetsu looked back, pensive and grave at the same time. _:Most likely, you will meet the other exiles soon; perhaps you can ask. As for what the shopkeeper did, it is... something you should figure out for yourself, and soon. Just keep in mind, Ichigo, there may be parts of yourself that you dislike, or are fearful of, but they are still you, and you must accept them for what they are.:_

 

                Needless to say, Ichigo didn't understand that either.

 

* * *

 

 

                “Oi, Geta-boushi, you in?” Ichigo stepped into the shop, waving politely at Tessai’s spirit peering at him from around the doorway that led to the kitchen. It nodded back and pointed down another hallway before disappearing inside again, no doubt returning to Tessai’s side.

 

                Helpful without being demeaning or migraine-inducing – Tessai’s spirit was officially Ichigo’s favourite. Right after Zangetsu of course.

 

                Ever since Benihime had dumped that rant on him, coupled with what she had said about Urahara not needing her anymore, Ichigo had felt as if he had to do something about it. Benihime was a mentor to him, as well as a sort of friend after all – granted, a very bossy friend – but she had – semi-patiently – walked him through numerous potential situations where he might need more than a sword to get out of, and she – along with Zangetsu who was shrewd where Benihime was wily – had been coaching him through taking down groups of Hollows without any extra useless movements, and with the least amount of pointless damage to himself and his surroundings, curbing his inadvertent tendency to let the world know he was fighting (what with his propensity for charging in and swinging away), and prodding him into using the least amount of time and energy to take down his enemies instead.

 

                Ichigo would never admit it upon pain of death but it was kind of fun – and immensely satisfying – when he managed to pull off an assault with lethal precision and without acquiring any injuries in the process.

 

                So he figured that the least he could do was help Benihime out in return. The spirit had said that Urahara no longer really had anyone to spar with, and while Ichigo understood that the shopkeeper was currently still stronger than him, he also knew that he could at least prove to be a challenge for the ex-captain.

 

                _:What are you doing here?:_ Benihime materialized next to him, almost giving him a heart attack with her abrupt entrance. _:Kisuke is elbow-deep in a tracking device for the Hogyoku.:_

 

                Ichigo rolled his eyes, stalking determinedly towards the locked door that he knew hid Urahara’s lab behind. “Well, he can do that some other time; he can afford to take some time off.”

                _:Time off for what?:_ Benihime pestered, curiosity lighting her green eyes.

 

                Ichigo smirked, knocking loudly on the door. “A spar, of course. That’s what you want, right? And I've got a few extra tricks up my sleeves now, thanks to you and Zangetsu.”

               

                He knocked again several seconds later, privately enjoying the rare sight of a stunned Benihime.

 

                It was another minute before the lock turned and the door slid open, revealing a slightly bewildered shopkeeper, one hand adjusting the hat on his head. “Kurosaki-san? To what do I owe the pleasure of your visit? Your father isn’t here.”

 

“I’m not looking for Goat-Face,” Ichigo gestured at the sword strapped to his back. “Wanna spar? I don’t wanna get rusty, and I might even surprise you now. I've gotten better.”

 

                Urahara blinked, and then glanced sharply down at his Zanpakutou still in its cane sheath. Out of the corner of his eye, Ichigo saw Benihime all but vibrate in place, excitement shaking the air around her.

 

                Still, the shopkeeper hesitated, glancing back over his shoulder at whatever experiment he had been in the middle of tinkering with. Ichigo gave another push. “Come on, Geta-boushi, you can’t just stay cooped up in there all day like some sort of hermit. It’s unhealthy.”

 

                This earned him a snort of laughter. “Why, Kurosaki-san, I had no idea you were so concerned about my health.”

 

                Ichigo rolled his eyes but let the mocking words go since Urahara was already stepping out of his lab, one hand dropping to the hilt of his sword as the other slid the door shut behind him.

 

                “I did hear that you had achieved Bankai,” Urahara mused as they made their way towards the underground training area.

 

                Ichigo grinned, razor-sharp. Benihime _and_ Zangetsu had both banned him from going to Bankai in all his fights, no matter how much easier it would've been. On the other hand, it had really helped Ichigo get the hang of wielding such a large blade with much more efficient ease. “Oh, if you want to see my Bankai, you're gonna have to work for it, old man.”

                On anyone else, the look on Urahara’s face would've been labelled flabbergasted. “You’re somewhat... different today, Kurosaki-san.”

 

                Ichigo cocked his head, getting a firm grip on his Zanpakutou as they strolled deeper into the training space. He hadn't really noticed anything different about himself. Stronger, but that was a given what with the workout that Zangetsu and Benihime were pounding into him daily after school, as well as the occasional drop-ins that Sougyo no Kotowari made for their favourite damn game of Kidou Tag.

 

                Though now that he thought about it, he seemed to be spending a hell of a lot more time with spirits than with other human beings.

 

                “Well then,” Urahara smiled slyly at him, Zanpakutou unsheathed but still sealed. “Shall we?”

 

                Ichigo eyed him carefully as Benihime disappeared from his side, returning to a pulsing presence in her sword form.

 

                Urahara hadn't even slid into a ready stance.

 

                Ichigo would make him regret it.

 

                He lunged, flying over the rocky landscape at top speed, and he saw Urahara raise his sword, but just as their blades met, Ichigo vanished in a complex five-step Shunpo that Benihime had shown him, completely easing up on any strength he had put behind his Zanpakutou so that Urahara was now staggeringly off-balance, having previously braced himself for a heavy assault that Ichigo had ended up not executing.

 

He could almost taste Urahara’s surprise but he didn't let that distract him as he whirled to a stop behind the shopkeeper, bringing his blade up in a sweeping slash that _just_ missed.

 

Well, Ichigo amended as he watched a ragged piece of brown cloth flutter to the ground in front of him even as Urahara leapt away to safety. Not missed _completely_.

 

“My, my, Kurosaki-san,” Urahara called out from where he had landed half a dozen feet away, the brown coat he always wore now sporting a jagged tear in the back from hemline to right shoulder. “You _have_ gotten better. My apologies for underestimating you.”

 

                Ichigo smirked, raising his Zanpakutou once more. “You gonna get serious now?”

 

                Urahara chuckled, shrugging out of his ruined coat and tossing it aside before extending his own sword. “Awaken, Benihime.”

 

                Ichigo let out a whoosh of breath as Benihime’s bloodlust skyrocketed. He hadn't felt this the last time around, or maybe Benihime had been holding back, or Ichigo had just been too weak to incite any interest in the spirit back then, but either way, he could feel it now.

 

                This time, Urahara was the one who attacked, and before Ichigo could blink, the shopkeeper was on him, their blades crashing together in a ringing cacophony of metal against metal.

 

                It took most of Ichigo’s strength to propel the blond away before diving after Urahara and restarting his own assault, throwing in as many unpredictable steps and strikes as he possible could, and never lingering in place for more than a second, if that. He wouldn't give Urahara any easy openings to aim for.

 

                Ichigo got as good as he gave, Benihime’s keen blade cutting through his Shihakushou and biting into his skin whenever he was a Shunpo too slow to escape or a nanosecond too late to block an incoming blow.

 

                The spar lasted for three hours, and at the two-hour mark, when Urahara had resorted to firing Kidou spells at him (the cheat!) and calling on Benihime’s crimson techniques, Ichigo had finally been forced to concede and call on his Bankai.

 

                Urahara had smiled.

 

Not his usual I’m-bullshitting-you smile either but an honest-to-god I’m-enjoying-myself smile, and the man had actually looked like he was having fun. The gleam that had lit Urahara’s storm-grey eyes had reminded Ichigo very much of Benihime in all her deadly, ferocious brilliance.

 

                By the time Urahara had managed to pin Ichigo down, blade a hairsbreadth from his throat and a knee shoved roughly in his gut, Ichigo was wheezing like he had run ten marathons (he was pretty sure ten marathons were less strenuous), sweat plastering his hair against his forehead, and an uncontrollable grin spread across his face.

 

                “Y- Yield,” He gasped out, and a moment later, the sword withdrew and the weight against his midsection lifted, leaving him gulping for air as Urahara slumped down next to him, Benihime sealed away once more with a flick of the man’s wrist.

 

                Ichigo cast an eye over the shopkeeper and couldn't help grinning even wider. Urahara was panting as well, nowhere near as wiped out as Ichigo but still breathing hard nonetheless. The man hadn't come out of the spar unscathed either, clothes torn here and there, bruised and bleeding from numerous cuts, none of them particularly deep but all of them ranging from tiny ones to others that spanned the length of a hand.

 

                And, to top it all off, Ichigo had knocked Urahara’s precious hat off two and a half hours ago.

 

                His gaze slid into the air above Urahara. Benihime smiled down at him, expression content and green eyes glowing happily from behind her eye-mask.

 

                _:I’m pleased to see that our lessons are not all in vain,:_ She sniffed without any real provocation.

 

                Ichigo puffed out a breathless laugh. Even now, Benihime never changed.

 

                “What in the world is so funny?”

 

                Ichigo glanced over to his left in time to catch Urahara’s bemused expression. “Nothing. That was a good spar. And you gotta admit, I’ve improved.”

 

                Urahara reached up to tug at his hat, only to be reminded that it wasn't there anymore, lost somewhere amidst the craters and rubble that half the training grounds had been reduced to. The man sighed mournfully, but nonetheless, a wry smile quirked his lips. “Yes, you have. I’ve said it before, Kurosaki-san, though I don’t believe you heard me last time – you really are quite a frightening child.”

 

                Ichigo immediately scowled. Was this a trend between wielder and Zanpakutou? “Don’t call me a child.”

 

                “And you skip right over the frightening part,” Kisuke lamented with a sigh, a wince passing over his features when one of his larger cuts pulled as he moved into a more comfortable position. He settled down again and surveyed Ichigo with thoughtful eyes. “I do wonder, Kurosaki-san, where you learned some of the Shunpo techniques and Zanjutsu tactics you used today?”

 

               

                “Oh,” Ichigo hauled himself into a sitting position and flicked a fleeting look in Benihime’s direction before answering, “Yoruichi-san’s used those Shunpo techniques before, and Zangetsu’s been showing me some stuff in...”

 

                He tapped his temple. None of that was actually a lie. Zangetsu _had_ been teaching him (just not in the normal way where one would meditate and enter their inner world to spar against their Zanpakutou), and Benihime _had_ told him that she had only picked up so many Shunpo techniques because she had spent centuries watching Yoruichi perfect them and even teach some of them to Urahara.

 

                So he wasn't lying. He was just… letting Urahara draw his own conjectures.

 

                Urahara nodded slowly, gaze unnervingly perceptive for a moment before the intensity ebbed and the carefree smile came back. “I see. Well, I’ve always known you to be a fast learner, and your potential is overwhelming. Still, you surprised me today. You've cut down on charging headlong at your opponent. Well done.”

 

                Ichigo flushed a little as Benihime snickered at his expense. It took everything he had not to glower at her.

 

                He shifted in place, and then bit back a hiss when his side seared a burning warning. He glanced down, blanching at the sight of the blood-soaked cloth. That one had been from when he had been stupid enough to lose track of Urahara for over five seconds and the man had nearly run him through (though Ichigo supposed that the shopkeeper wouldn't have _really_ run him through) from behind.

 

A pale hand appeared in his line of sight and swatted his own hands away. “Let me see.”

 

Ichigo tentatively allowed the shopkeeper to peel back the sticky layers of his torn Shihakushou. Seconds later, Urahara’s hands glowed a soft green, and Ichigo watched with some astonishment as the worst of the injury began mending itself.

 

“Don't look so shocked, Kurosaki-san,” Urahara effected a miffed pout that worked unnaturally well on his face. “Don’t you remember who healed you after Kuchiki-taichou did a number on you?”

 

Ichigo made a face. “Don’t remind me of that fight.”

 

Urahara chuckled, expertly healing the wound at Ichigo’s side until it was scabbing over, and then retreating once more. “There, that should do. Anywhere else?”

 

Ichigo shook his head even though his left shoulder stung like hell and he was sore from head to toe now that the last of his adrenaline was leaving him. Still, it would heal, and Urahara had his own injuries to look after.

 

“Hey, you know a lot of Kidou, right?” Ichigo recalled the numerous low- to medium-levelled spells that Urahara had thrown at him throughout their spar. At Urahara’s measured nod, Ichigo pressed casually, “Could you teach me some?”

 

Urahara’s eyebrows rose. “Why the sudden interest?”

 

Ichigo shrugged, inwardly scowling as he remembered all the minor Kidou burns he had received courtesy of Ukitake’s out-of-control brats. “It looks kinda cool, and it could be handy in a fight. I mean if I lose my Zanpakutou in the middle of a battle, I’d be pretty useless if I couldn't do anything else, right?”

 

Urahara hummed in agreement and nodded. “Why not? It could help you control your reiatsu more effectively as well. You might even be able to seal your Zanpakutou.”

 

Ichigo scowled at the shopkeeper’s blatant amusement. It wasn't his fault he had so much reiatsu.

 

“But not today,” Urahara tacked on. “You’re exhausted, and I’m tired as well. I haven’t had such a hard workout in decades.”

 

Ichigo smirked triumphantly at this, glancing at Benihime again who was scoffing at her wielder. He said nothing, rolling his shoulders as best he could to test how sore his back muscles were.

 

“Come on then,” Ichigo urged as he climbed to his feet, staggering and almost falling flat on his face before Zangetsu steadied him with a hand on his uninjured shoulder, and Benihime slid forward to tug him fully upright again.

 

It must've looked a bit strange to an outsider, and Ichigo’s gaze quickly darted to where Urahara was clambering to his feet. The shopkeeper had tilted his head, brow furrowed as he studied Ichigo in a puzzled manner.

 

Ichigo opted to feign obliviousness. “Urahara-san? You coming? I'm starving, and I want a shower.”

 

“Hmm,” Urahara gestured towards the trapdoor in the far distance. “After you, Kurosaki-san. I must find my hat.”

 

Ichigo nodded and Shunpoed off, significantly slower than his usual speed. He could practically feel Urahara’s eyes drilling into his back.

 

 _:Kisuke is on to you,:_ Benihime murmured, as she Shunpoed alongside him. _:You are hiding well, but if you persist on interacting with all of us, you will have to be prepared for people to discover your secret.:_

 

Ichigo shot her a sardonic look. “Not like I have a choice. I seem to recall _you_ were the one who wouldn't leave me alone at first.”

 

Benhime cuffed him over the head, though Ichigo noted with some fondness that the blow was considerably gentler than it usually was. _:Impudent child; keep your thoughts to yourself if you have still not managed to learn some proper etiquette.:_

 

Ichigo scoffed but didn't have the energy to argue with her. He glanced over at Zangetsu who caught his eye and permitted a small smile to grace his face. The spirit seemed to understand exactly what Ichigo wanted to hear. _:You did well, Ichigo. There are still holes in your defense, and your attacks grow sloppy when you begin to tire, but overall, you have skillfully applied all that we have taught you so far against a captain-class Shinigami as experienced as the shopkeeper is. You should be proud.:_

 

Ichigo grinned, unfamiliar delight flooding his chest. Benihime rolled her eyes, muttering something about children being easily satisfied. And Zangetsu only nodded, something like fatherly pride and a perplexingly grim sort of satisfaction settling in his expression. He didn't say anything though, and Ichigo was too pleased with himself at the moment to look too deep into it.

 

Overall, it had been a good day, Ichigo decided despite knowing he was going to wake up aching tomorrow morning.

 

* * *

 

 

                Ichigo woke up with a start, heart pounding in his chest, a scream stuck in his throat and the memory of a monster dwelling in his sleep-fogged brain.

 

                _:Finally awake? Man, I coulda stabbed ya a thousand times by now.:_

 

                Ichigo jerked, scrambling away from the source of the rasping echo of a voice and almost toppled out of bed. His eyes widened when he caught sight of the white figure crouching in the shadowy corner on the other side of his bedroom.

 

                _:What’s the matter?:_ The... Hollow? – jeered. _:Scared?:_

 

                Ichigo glanced around frantically. Where was the old man?

 

                _:He ain’t here,:_ The Hollow told him with a grin, all teeth. _:It’s our time right now.:_

 

                Ichigo finally managed to pull himself together enough to demand, “Where is he then? What did you do with Zangetsu?”

 

                The Hollow snorted. _:You're hopeless. Can’t ya feel ’im? He’s back inside ya. Like I said, now’s our time. I didn't want ’im interferin’, and he agreed.:_

 

                Ichigo drew in a shaky breath and concentrated. He had never had the need to meditate – except the first time – since Zangetsu was always literally at his side. But he found their connection easily enough, and he felt the anxiety gripping his heart loosen when he received the impression of solid assurance from the spirit.

 

                “What do you want then?” Ichigo asked, straightening and shifting forward cautiously to slide his legs off the edge of the bed. “Who...”

 

                ‘Who are you’ was what he was about to ask but only now did it truly register to him that the Hollow in front of him looked _exactly like him_.

 

                And...

 

                “I know you,” Ichigo stated slowly. “You... You took over my body when I was fighting Byakuya.”

 

The Hollow rolled his eyes. _:And the other shoe drops. Jeez, what are ya, brain-dead?:_

 

Ichigo instinctively bristled. “I was still half-asleep! What are you doing here then? I’m not letting you take over my body again if that’s what you’re after!”

 

The Hollow scoffed, rising fluidly to his feet, and Ichigo instantly tensed, seizing the Substitute Shinigami badge from his bedside table.

 

The Hollow rolled his eyes again. _:Settle down. If I wanted ta take over, I woulda done it already while ya were sleepin’.:_

 

He paused, eyeing Ichigo almost hungrily. _:But ya know, if ya do let me take over, ya’d have a much easier time defeatin’ your enemies.:_

 

Ichigo’s jaw tightened. “I can handle my own battles, thanks.”

 

The Hollow did a good rendition of skeptical. _:Uh, hello, if ya recall, I was the one who dealt the most damage against cherry-blossom guy, and I only got ta play with him for a few minutes. Ya were losin’ before I took over, and ya only won afterwards cuz I weakened him enough!:_

 

Ichigo scowled. “So what, you want a thank-you? Fine, I can do that; thanks for helping me win, but you’re way too bloodthirsty for me to just _let_ you take over. You’d probably kill anyone who so much as looked at you wrong!”

The Hollow didn't look at all impressed. _:’You’, ‘you’, ‘you’; what’s with all those ‘you’s? Your talkin’ like it’s just me or somethin’. Haven't ya figured it out yet, idiot? I_ am _you.:_

 

Ichigo stared, unknowingly clutching at his badge with a white-knuckled grip. “...What are you... Just because you look like me or- or share head space with me doesn't mean you're me!”

 

The Hollow laughed, mockingly loud. _:Ya seem so sure. Fine then, if I'm not you, then who am I?:_

 

Ichigo opened his mouth to snap something back but nothing came to mind. He swallowed instead and growled scathingly, “Fine, then tell me how you’re even here. I doubt everyone has a- a Hollow in their head.”

 

The Hollow smirked. _:Now we’re gettin’ somewhere. Ya should ask that shopkeeper of yours; he’ll know.:_

 

Ichigo stilled. Benihime’s words from weeks earlier about her wielder rang in his ears.

 

He had thought about it; of course he had. And the only conclusion he had come to was that anything Urahara had done to him would've had to have happened during those three days when the shopkeeper had helped him obtain his Zanpakutou.

 

He supposed anything worth having had a price though. He had acquired enough power to storm Soul Society and save Rukia. Was this Hollow the price he had had to pay then?

 

“And what do you want?” Ichigo enquired guardedly. “You can’t just be here to chat; it would be more like you if you were trying to kill me or something.”

 

The Hollow cocked his head in a creepy imitation of Ichigo when he was contemplating something. _:I saw yur fight yesterday._

_:I was gonna try and take over again,:_ He added offhandedly, making Ichigo twitch. _:That shopkeeper’s way outta yur league, not ta mention manipulative as hell; I woulda fucked ’im up just on principle. But the old man said ta wait, that ya’d put up a good fight, and what d’ya know – ya actually fought a lot better than ya did against Mr. Cherry-blossom-obsession._

_:Not as good as I would've, of course,:_ The Hollow boasted confidently. _:If it were me, I would've at least bloodied ’im up twice as much as ya did. But I’ll admit ya weren’t bad; not as weak as I first thought ya were.:_

 

Ichigo gave him a deadpan look, and he felt some of his prior reservations subside. “I’m flattered. But that still doesn't answer my question – what do you want?”

 

The Hollow scowled, posture slouching. _:Answer my question then – I'm you, but what am I?:_

 

Ichigo scratched his head. Great. The Hollow liked riddles. Just what he needed, especially at ass o’clock in the morning.

 

Ichigo sighed shortly. “I don’t know, but you _can’t_ be me. You just can’t. I would never- go after people like you do. You almost killed Byakuya, you know? If I hadn't kicked you into the backseat again, he would've died.”

 

The Hollow looked incensed. _:That’s the whole_ point _, ya moron! He was the_ enemy _, and if he hadn't backed down in the end and let ya go gallivantin’ off ta save your damsel in distress, ya and I both know ya would've struck ’im down where he stood, my interference or no.:_

 

Ichigo’s temper flared. “That’s not true; I wouldn't _kill_ -”

 

 _:I’M YOU!:_ The Hollow bellowed, cutting Ichigo off as he stalked forward, stopping a mere half-foot in front of the bed. _:I know exactly what you're capable of, what ya’d do ta protect those little friends o’ yours, cuz I'm_ you _. Ya look at yourself,_ King _, really look at yourself, and can ya honestly tell me that ya wouldn't’ve run pretty-boy through if the Kuchiki girl was gonna die? Can ya honestly tell me that ya wouldn't’ve killed him if that was the only way ta save her?:_

 

Ichigo was going to deny it, because killing Hollows was one thing, but killing another person?

 

And yet.

 

If Byakuya had continued trying to stop him, if the man hadn't yielded to Ichigo’s resolve in the end, what would Ichigo have done to ensure Rukia’s continued existence?

 

 _:Ya already know the answer ta that,:_ The Hollow smirked, backing up a step as he correctly read whatever expression was painted on Ichigo’s face.

 

Ichigo dropped his gaze to his hands. “...I still don’t get it; who are you?”

 

The Hollow hoisted himself backwards to perch on the desk, legs dangling languidly over the edge.

 

 _:I’m you,:_ The Hollow repeated once more. _:The other side of your coin – all the things ya hate about yourself, all the things you're scared o’ becomin’, all the things ya know ya can be if pushed far enough. I'm your desperation and your fear, your anger and your self-hatred and even your guilt; I'm all o’ that combined, and if ya want, I can be you completely.:_

 

Ichigo jerked, eyes snapping up to zero in on the Hollow. The distant horror he had been feeling as his counterpart had laid it all out for him was shoved to the back of his head, replaced instead by a steady thrum of heat in his chest that boosted his conviction, because-

 

“ _No,_ ” He said firmly, louder than he had planned, and he was mindful of the house’s other occupants as he lowered his voice again. “No. If that’s true, if everything you just said is true, then I won’t let all those things rule me, I won’t let _you_ rule me. Yeah, maybe I’d be stronger – desperate people usually are – but that kind of strength runs out eventually. Besides, I don’t wanna go on a killing spree every time something pisses me off.”

 

The Hollow stared at him, eerily silent even as his expression darkened. _:Well, don’t say I didn't give ya an easy way out.:_

 

In the blink of an eye, the Hollow was suddenly holding a familiar Khyber knife, and, reacting on instinct, Ichigo vaulted backwards, flipping over the end of his bed and leaving his Human body at the same time, his own Zanpakutou in hand.

 

 _‘Wait, what the hell am I doing?’_ Ichigo wondered as he looked from the Hollow’s raised sword to his own. His mind raced even as his counterpart’s grin became shark-like and terrifying, gold-on-black eyes boring into his own. _‘This Hollow is me, everything I'm afraid of becoming, everything I hate about myself, and the only reason I'm about to fight him is because I don’t want him taking over. But-’_

_:Better pay attention!:_ The Hollow cackled and leapt forward with single-minded intention.

 

 _‘No,’_ Ichigo stared at the advancing Hollow lunging towards him. Everything seemed to slow. _‘Fighting him, fighting_ myself _, doesn't make sense. Zangetsu said I had to accept myself; last time I checked, fighting against myself isn’t accepting anything.’_

 

“No,” He said out loud, and ducked out of the way, the Hollow’s blade missing by half an inch. “Stop.”

 

The Hollow snorted, spinning on his heel and darting towards Ichigo again. _:No.:_

 

Ichigo gritted his teeth, grounded himself in what he believed in, the ideals that had always backed him whenever he had fought, the certainty that he would always fight to protect, and then he tossed aside his own sword. He didn't need a weapon to face himself.

 

“No,” He said again, fierce and steady even as the Hollow’s blade descended on him. “I'm not fighting you. Why should I? I'm the one in control, not you. You’re part of me, but not a part I'm willing to let rule me. You have no hold over me. _I won’t let you control me!_ ”

 

His voice rose to a shout, every fibre of his being behind that single belief as he stood his ground and stared straight into the warped eyes of his counterpart.

 

And when the Hollow seemed to trip in midair, faltering and tumbling to the ground as if something invisible had knocked him down, Ichigo was less surprised than he probably should’ve been.

 

 _:What the hell-!:_ The Hollow snarled, sword disappearing without a trace just as the door burst open and Ichigo’s entire family piled in.

 

It was lucky his father was at the forefront, blocking Ichigo and most of his room from the girls’ view. Isshin shot him a mildly alarmed look but raised his eyebrows meaningfully when it didn't look like he was hurt in any way.

 

Ichigo didn't need telling twice as he dove back into his body, shooting the Hollow an I’ll-kill-you-if-you-make-a-scene-in-front-of-my-sisters look. The Hollow glowered back at him, still looking downright perplexed at the sudden turn of events.

 

“Onii-chan, are you alright?” Yuzu fretted as Isshin finally stepped aside to give the twins enough room to wriggle into Ichigo’s room. “We heard you yell!”

 

“Yeah,” Ichigo faked a sleepy sheepish look. “Just fell out of bed; sorry.”

 

Yuzu was quick to smile, though she fussed over Ichigo for a few seconds to make sure he hadn't hit his head or something. Karin eyed him suspiciously but relented after Ichigo tousled her hair and assured her again that he was alright.

 

Five minutes later, the girls were back in bed and Isshin was squinting at Ichigo with crossed arms and a mildly concerned frown. “Hollow?”

 

Ichigo smiled wryly. “Yeah, something like that.”

Isshin hesitated, looking like he wanted to say something more, but then shook his head and waved a hand at the bed. “Go back to sleep; you've got school tomorrow. Don’t think I won’t kick you out of bed just because you had a late night. Sacrifice is good for the soul!”

Ichigo rolled his eyes and closed the door in his father’s grinning face. Idiot.

 

He didn't turn back to his Hollow right away, waiting until he heard Isshin’s bedroom door close. And then he glanced at the white figure still sprawled on the ground.

 

The Hollow scowled. _:That wasn't supposed ta happen.:_

 

Ichigo arched an eyebrow, no longer feeling any fear towards his lookalike. The Hollow just looked like he was sulking now. “And what _was_ supposed to happen?”

 

The Hollow huffed. _:Best case scenario for me – I win, and I take the reins so ta speak. Best case scenario for_ you –you _win, and I disappear for a while until ya slip up again sometime down the road and I get ta try again.:_

 

Ichigo ran a tired hand through his hair. “How is that a best case scenario? That just sounds like I'm ignoring the problem until I can’t anymore.”

 

The Hollow’s figurative hackles rose. _:That’s how it works! ...I think. What did you just do anyway? Where do ya get off choosin’ a third option?:_

 

Ichigo shrugged. At this point, he was beyond caring. The only thing he _did_ care about was that it seemed that he had succeeded in... whatever he was supposed to succeed at.

 

“Zangetsu?” He called out. A moment later, the old man appeared in a swirl of shadows.

 

He was smiling so Ichigo took that as a good sign.

 

“Do I have to keep him now?” Ichigo asked bluntly, pointing at his counterpart.

 

The Hollow bared his teeth. _:I’m not a dog!:_

 

Zangetsu surveyed them both through his sunglasses. _:You took my words in an unexpected direction, Ichigo.:_

 

Ichigo blinked. “Well, it worked out, right?”

 

Zangetsu inclined his head. _:I believe so.:_

 

“Great,” Ichigo turned to peer down at the Hollow. “Now what? Am I gonna have to watch my back from now on to make sure you're not going to stab it?”

 

The Hollow made a face at him as he hauled himself to his feet. _:Don't be so melodramatic, King. Does it look like I even have a sword ta stab ya with?:_

 

They – sans Zangetsu – both jumped when the ghostly version of Ichigo’s Khyber knife returned, thunking to the ground beside the Hollow.

 

The Hollow stared at it for a long moment before turning disbelieving eyes on Ichigo. _:Are ya stupid? I am being completely serious here. Were ya dropped on your head as a baby?:_

 

Ichigo seized the nearest hard object – a pencil sharpener – and chucked it at the Hollow. It barely took any concentration on Ichigo’s part for the pencil sharpener to bounce off his counterpart’s head.

 

The Hollow’s mouth had dropped open. _:...Did ya just throw a pencil sharpener at me?:_

 

Ichigo snorted, making his way back to his bed. “Flies, Hollow. And it’s not like I _wanted_ to give you your sword back; it just... came back. Whatever. Now why did you call me ‘King’? You've said that twice.”

 

The Hollow grumbled wordlessly for a minute, jaw working, and then sauntered over to the bed, kicked Ichigo in the leg hard enough to make Ichigo hiss and shift out of the way, which left enough room on the bed for the Hollow to hop up onto the end of it.

 

 _:You're in control, so you're King,:_ The Hollow sighed at last. _:But I don’t know what the hell happens now.:_

 

Ichigo rolled his eyes, shoving a foot against the Hollow’s side as he flopped back onto his mattress, earning an affronted squawk from his counterpart. “I don’t get why this has to be so complicated. Just stick around like Zangetsu does; I won’t mind if you promise not to- to possess me again or whatever. Oh, and I’d appreciate it if you stopped sending me nightmares.”

 

The Hollow shoved his foot away with a glare. _:Ya know, not thirty minutes ago, ya were terrified o’ me.:_

 

“I wasn't _terrified_ ,” Ichigo retorted, ignoring the fact that he sort of had been. He raised his head and squinted at the Hollow, golden irises against black sclera, white from head to toe. His counterpart suddenly seemed... far more normal, not at all like the stuff of nightmares that Ichigo’s dreams had literally been made of ever since he had come back from Soul Society.

 

“And you're not all that scary now that I think about it,” He told the Hollow with a yawn. “Now I'm going back to sleep. Do whatever you want. _Except_ take over my body.”

 

And as far as he was concerned, the issue was resolved.

 

He swore when the Hollow kicked him again, this time in the knee. “Damn it, stop that! What do you want?”

 

The Hollow glared death at him. _:If I'm gonna be stickin’ around, then I want regular spars.:_

 

Ichigo rubbed at his eyes. “Already making demands, you freeloader? Fine, I can do the spars.”

 

 _:And I want ta kick_ some _enemy ass,:_ The Hollow grouched, and then muttered reluctantly, _:Let me fight sometime; I promise I won’t take over completely. I probably can’t anymore anyway, whatever the fuck ya did.:_

 

Ichigo craned his neck up again, studying the Hollow closely. “...Fine; deal.”

 

The Hollow sneered without any real heat. _:Ya trust too easily, stupid King.:_

 

“No, I'm just too tired to give that much of a damn, and I can’t sense that you’re lying,” Ichigo corrected. “Now is that all?”

 

The Hollow kicked him a third time. Ichigo kicked right back, and the two of them glowered furiously at each other until Zangetsu cleared his throat pointedly, wordlessly ordering them to get on with it.

 

_:...Gimme a name.:_

 

Ichigo frowned with more than a little bafflement. “What?”

 

 _:Ya heard me!:_ The Hollow griped. _:I don’t wanna hear ‘Hey you!’ or ‘Hollow!’ all the time; what if there were other Hollows around, dumbass?:_

 

Ichigo ran a hand over his face. “You have got to be kidding me. Can’t you think of your own name?”

 

_:No! Stop bein’ lazy!:_

 

“ _I’m_ being lazy? It’s _your_ name!”

 

 _:Fine!:_ The Hollow groused. _:You can call me ‘Kami’; I like that name.:_

 

“Like hell,” Ichigo scorned. “Fine, how about... Yuki?”

 

_:The fuck? What am I, a girl?:_

 

“Shiro?” Ichigo tried again.

 

_:Bland as oatmeal, King. Try again.:_

 

Ichigo closed his eyes, feeling a headache building up in his head. “Alright, fuck, fine. ...Kousetsu or... Hakuran. ‘Snowfall’ or ‘White Storm’ – pick one; if you don’t like either, too damn bad.”

 

There was a long silence, and Ichigo had almost drifted off again when he felt the blanket that he had shucked earlier being roughly thrown over him.

 

_:I s’pose I can deal with Hakuran, stupid King.:_

 

 

**Please leave a review on your way out.**


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> People have been asking about the filler arcs/movies, specifically the Muramasa one – I most likely won’t be putting them into this fic, but I might write separate oneshots for a few of them once I’m done with this.

 

                _:What in the name of the Spirit King is that?!:_

 

                _:Shut up, bitch!_ Your _wielder’s the one who made me; go take it up with him if you're gonna complain!:_

 

                _:How dare you?! Apologize at once, you foul-mouthed buffoon!:_

 

                Ichigo pinched the bridge of his nose. He should’ve foreseen this. _Obviously_ , his Hollow and Benihime would _not_ get along.

 

                _:Concentrate, Ichigo,:_ Zangetsu’s baritone voice cut in, soothing his nerves with practiced ease.

 

                Ichigo adjusted his blindfold and nodded, sliding into an opening stance again. “Right, sorry.”

 

                He sensed something coming in from his right and quickly twisted out of the way, attempting a roundhouse kick that hit nothing but air. This was harder than he had ever predicted.

 

                Zangetsu had suggested training his other senses, especially since he was still having difficulties picking up reiatsu signatures. Ichigo had willingly agreed but-

 

                “Oof!” Ichigo went sprawling backwards head over heels as Zangetsu’s fist met his jaw.

 

                -that didn't mean it didn't hurt. Constantly.

 

                “Ow...” He moaned pitifully as he yanked off the blindfold and tenderly prodded his jaw. That would definitely bruise.

 

                _:Ichigo!:_ Benihime barked from somewhere out of his immediate line of sight. _:Are you certain about this? Kisuke would advise defeating your inner Hollow and locking it away so that it is under your full control, and he has studied this meticulously for many decades.:_

 

                _:Fuck that!:_ Hakuran rallied, looking enraged as he vaulted over to hover in the air above Ichigo. _:Your wielder’s wrong! King’s not gonna lock me up; we have an agreement goin’! Right, King?:_

 

                For the briefest of moments, Ichigo thought he caught a flash of brittle uneasiness in the Hollow’s expression but it was gone before he could double-check.

 

                He sighed, pushing himself up to sit cross-legged on the ground instead. They were gathered in a deserted parking lot behind an empty warehouse. On occasion, he would go over to the Urahara Shouten to train, but sometimes, Urahara or Tessai or even one of the kids would pop their heads down to check on him or call him up for lunch, so Ichigo always had to make sure they were all busy doing something else before he could practice there. It wouldn't do for other people to see him talking to imaginary friends and getting his ass handed to him by thin air.

 

                “He’s right, Hime,” Ichigo confirmed, and Hakuran smirked gloatingly at Benihime from beside him. “Don’t worry, I think this method works best for me. I don’t really want to... uh, _lock him up_ or something anyway. We’re fine like this.”

 

                Benihime looked highly skeptical but before she could continue arguing her case, Ichigo enquired pointedly, “Why would Geta-boushi be studying inner Hollows? And if he already knew I had an infestation problem-”

 

                _:Oi!:_

 

                “-why didn't he bring it up with me? Warn me at the very least?”

 

                Benihime froze before her mouth curled down. _:He has already sent for help. Kisuke is not in the habit of revealing all the cards in his hands until he believes it is the right moment. He was busy with other experimental projects for a while, and then he considered the spar you had with him a few days ago before coming to the conclusion that your inner Hollow is still mostly dormant. Therefore, he thinks that there isn’t too much of a rush, and that you can wait until proper assistance arrives.:_

 

                Ichigo sighed wearily. Honestly, Urahara and his secrets.

 

                “Well, it doesn't matter now,” Ichigo quirked a half-smile when Zangetsu extended a hand to pull him to his feet. “Hakuran and I are good. We don’t need help.”

 

                Hakuran looked inordinately pleased by this as he shot another smug look in Benihime’s direction. Benihime looked ready to kill him. Possibly castrate him first. With a rusty chainsaw.

 

                (Ichigo honestly wouldn't put it past her to find one just for that purpose.)

 

                “Okay,” Ichigo hastily cut in before anyone got violent. “Why don’t we head back? We’ve been training for going on three hours now. I gotta get back in time for dinner.”

 

                _:Wait,:_ Hakuran ordered, spinning to face him. The Hollow scowled at him, eyes slitting to examine him narrowly. _:Ya said I could fight too. Ya know that means ya have ta trust me with your body, right? Ya’d still be conscious but we’d be workin’... tagether.:_

 

                Hakuran grimaced at the last word as if it left a foul taste in his mouth.

 

                Ichigo snorted but nodded guardedly. “Yeah, I get that. ...You want to try it now?”

 

                _:I don’t think that’s a good idea,:_ Benihime quickly interjected, green eyes distressed.

 

                _:I should be able to separate them should anything go wrong,:_ Zangetsu inputted calmly.

 

                _:‘Should be’?:_ Benihime repeated, voice pitching a few decibels louder.

 

                However, Ichigo barely heard her because Hakuran was already moving.

 

                For a single terrifying second, Ichigo found himself floundering in darkness, drowning as another presence pressed against him, around him, _into_ him, and he instinctively fought back, clawing for breath and control as he panicked.

 

                _:Damn it, King, ya said ya’d trust me! Settle down and let me in!:_

 

                Ichigo struggled for a moment longer, gradually becoming aware of the fact that the foreign-familiar presence wasn't forcing him down, simply waiting for Ichigo to... scoot over and make room.

 

                And suddenly, he could breathe again, and his vision cleared, sharp as ever, except he had a dizzying moment of feeling like he was looking through two pairs of eyes before they blended together and the world tipped steadily back into focus, right-way-up and colour-filled.

 

                “ **It worked?** ” Ichigo asked out loud, and he startled himself when his voice came out distorted with the uncanny echo of Hakuran’s Hollow tones.

 

                Benihime was standing less than two feet away from him, Zangetsu’s hand on her shoulder as if to hold her back from strangling the Hollow or something.

 

                _:It seems so,:_ Zangetsu observed, releasing Benihime. _:How do you feel?:_

 

                Ichigo rolled his shoulders and wandered a few steps to the side, listening to the whisper of Hakuran’s voice at the back of his mind, sounding childishly gleeful. “ **Fine, I think. Still feels kinda weird-** ”

 

                He cut himself off once he consciously realized that there was something covering his face. Tentatively, he reached up, fingers brushing... bone.

 

                _:Would you like a mirror?:_ Benihime enquired stiffly, already producing a hand mirror bedecked with a smatter of tiny rubies around the edge.

 

                Ichigo peered into it, somewhat unnerved by the reflection staring back at him. His eyes were no longer yellow against black; instead, his own familiar eyes stared back at him. His mask on the other hand, well, he had seen this mask before, except the markings were vastly different this time. Instead of three red stripes on the left side, the lines were gone, replaced by a mask that was entirely white save for the two rippling designs splashed at the outer corner of each of his eyeholes. They looked... They looked like twin suns, complete with wavy lines depicting the sunrays. Both were coloured entirely black so that they stood out against their white background, and while the design made it slightly unsettling to look at, his mask was evenly matched on both sides.

 

                Balanced.

 

                “ **Huh,** ” Ichigo considered the new pattern for a moment longer before grinning a little. “ **Cool.** ”

 

                Benihime rolled her eyes, tucking the mirror away again. _:Such a child. Are you certain there are no adverse effects?:_

 

                Ichigo tapped his mask with one finger. “ **Well, I don’t feel like I'm gonna go off the deep end any time soon.** ”

 

                _:And ya ain’t gonna,:_ Hakuran muttered inside his head, making Ichigo start a bit. _:Now stop standin’ around;_ do _somethin’.:_

 

                Ichigo hesitated, and then took off in a flit of Shunpo. He crossed the full length of the abandoned parking lot in less time than it took a heart to beat, so fast that he almost smashed face-first into a tree.

 

                “ **Holy shit!** ” He yelped, narrowly dodging a rotting tree branch. “ **This is gonna take some getting used to.** ”

 

                Hakuran on the other hand was cackling madly in his head. _:King, we’re gonna be so strong! I can feel it! This is great!:_

 

                Ichigo couldn't help smirking in response. “ **Aren't you glad I didn't kick your ass when I had the chance then?** ”

 

                _:Hey, we both know if ya’d actually let me fight, I’d’ve won!:_

 

                Ichigo scoffed. “ **Yeah right, keep dream-** ”

 

                He choked, all the air in his lungs abruptly deserting him, and the last thing he remembered before his legs crumpled underneath him and darkness invaded his vision was Hakuran yelling frantically in his mind and Zangetsu catching him around the middle before he could hit the ground.

 

* * *

 

 

                _:You’re awake! Finally!:_

 

                Ichigo groaned and mumbled something unintelligible as he peeled open his eyes, Hollow mask gone and feeling like he had been trampled by a herd of rampaging elephants. “Ugh, wha’appened?”

 

                _:It seems you need to build up your ability to maintain your Hollowfied form,:_ Zangetsu explained from where he was sitting at the base of a tree a few feet from where Ichigo was lying. _:Presently, you can only retain the Hollow mask for approximately thirty seconds.:_

 

                Hakuran, crouched beside Ichigo, made a face. _:_ Thirty. Seconds. _Ya really suck, King.:_

 

                Ichigo managed to pull together enough strength in his watery muscles to dig his foot in the Hollow’s gut. “Shut up; I didn't ask for your opinion.”

 

                Hakuran clicked his tongue but didn't retaliate; Ichigo must look about as bad as he felt if even his Hollow was taking pity on him.

 

                “What time is it?” He grumbled, dragging himself upright so that he was at least sitting up, albeit slumped in a way that was bad for his spine. Above him, the stars had already come out.

 

                _:Just past ten,:_ Benihime reported. She held up Ichigo’s cell phone. _:Your Hollow took over your body momentarily to answer your sister’s call. He has informed her that you are working on a project at a friend’s house._

 

                _:No need to worry,:_ Benihime added sweetly when Ichigo snapped his head around to frown at Hakuran. _:I punished him accordingly for possessing you.:_

 

                _:It was for a good cause!:_ Hakuran protested, glaring sullenly at Benihime. _:It’s not like I went on a rampage across town! I did ya a favour, King! Some appreciation would be nice!:_

 

                Ichigo sighed, scrubbing a hand over his face. “Yeah, okay, that’s- thanks. Just don’t make a habit of it.”

 

                Hakuran rolled his eyes. _:Yeah, yeah, whatever. Your sister thinks you’re comin’ down with the flu by the way, since it’s not like I can imitate your voice completely, so make sure ya act like it when ya get home. Not that ya’d need ta do much; ya look like shit.:_

 

                Ichigo couldn't muster up enough energy to do anything more than scowl. One thing was for sure – he’d need to practice (and probably conk himself out) a lot more before he’d be able to maintain a Hollowfied form with Hakuran for any functional length of time.

 

* * *

 

 

                “This is all your fault!”

 

                _:Like hell it is! How the fuck was I supposed ta know that the coffee maker was gonna explode once I plugged it in?!:_

 

                “You're not supposed to put that many coffee beans inside in the first place, and why the hell would you add sugar and cream into it at the same time?! You add that shit afterwards if you want to sweeten it!”

 

                Had anyone been looking out the window at that time, they would've played witness to the very strange sight of a delinquent-looking teenager running down the street with a book bag in hand while shouting at nothing in particular.

 

                “And now I'm gonna be late for school!” Ichigo groused as he rounded a corner at top speed.

 

                _:Oh stop whining; it’s just a coffee maker,:_ Hakuran dismissed, dogging Ichigo’s steps.

 

                “That I now have to pay for,” Ichigo reminded him. “With my _own_ _money_. And I don’t even drink coffee! Why do you?!”

 

                _:I just wanted ta try it!:_ Hakuran said defensively. _:Don’t be such a downer.:_

 

                Ichigo swung his bag at the Hollow, missed as Hakuran danced out of the way with a blown raspberry, and zoomed through the school gates just as the bell rang. “Damn it!”

 

                Hakuran snickered at his expense, utterly unrepentant as he disappeared back into Ichigo’s inner world, leaving Ichigo to speed up two flights of stairs on his own.

 

                He skidded to a halt in front of his classroom, running a hand through his hair and adjusting his uniform before knocking twice on the door and throwing it open.

 

                “You’re late, Kurosaki-kun!”

 

                “Overslept,” Ichigo grunted, closing the door behind him. “Sorry.”

 

                The teacher gave him an exasperated look as Ichigo strode past her. He knew she wouldn't give him detention though; he had always made sure his attendance was near-perfect.

 

                He glanced at the board as he walked by, raising an eyebrow at the backwards kanji that spelled out... Hirako... Shinji?

 

                Was there a transfer student?

 

                He scanned the class as he made his way to his seat, automatically noting that none of his friends were missing. He had unconsciously started the habit after returning from the invasion; if someone was missing, evidently, shit would hit the fan sooner or later. Ichigo knew at least Chad, Inoue, and even Ishida who no longer had his powers (and what the hell were they going to do about that, especially when the damn Quincy refused any and all offers of assistance or suggestions) had taken to doing the same.

 

                He blinked when he found an unfamiliar blond seated in the desk next to his. So this was the new student. For some reason, the teenager looked... well, _not_ like a teenager. He was youthful enough but there was something in his eyes or his expression or even the easy, self-assured way he held himself that reminded Ichigo of...

 

                He flicked a glance above and around Hirako’s head. No spirit, and why would the Gotei 13 send another one to pose as a student anyway?

 

                Ichigo eased into his seat, still eyeing the blond warily, especially when Hirako caught his eye and grinned slyly at him.

 

                “Looks like we’re neighbours, huh?” Hirako’s grin widened minutely. “I’m Hirako Shinji. Let’s be friends, Kurosaki-kun.”

 

                Ichigo’s eyes narrowed.

 

                “Yeah,” He replied carefully. “Pleased to meet you.”

 

                Hirako just continued grinning.

 

* * *

 

 

                _‘I knew this thing was useless!’_ Ichigo lamented resignedly as he tucked away the badge and gave the new Shinigami in front of him the stink-eye.

 

                _:If ya knew, why did ya take it?:_ Hakuran scoffed. _:Ya shoulda just told them ta stuff it.:_

 

                _:Sometimes,:_ Zangetsu remarked. _:Feigning ignorance is the best option when dealing with people whose motives are concealed from you.:_

 

                “Look,” Ichigo said out loud to the patrolling officer, already turning away. “Just ask Ukitake-san or one of the other captains about it. I'm sure they’ll explain it to you.”

 

                The Shinigami puffed up, clearly vexed at being dismissed, but Ichigo was no longer paying attention to him. A new presence tickled his senses, and without hesitation, he spun on his heel and brought up his Zanpakutou, just in time to deflect another sword.

 

                Ichigo could honestly say he wasn't surprised. “Hirako.”

 

                Hirako was grinning just as widely as he had been that morning in the classroom, neither of them paying any attention as their clashing reiatsu sent the negligible Shinigami flying. “Hm, not bad.”

 

                Ichigo scowled, glancing down at the blond’s Zanpakutou. The spirit inside it felt... muted, like someone had wrapped it up and buried it. He couldn’t get a good read.

 

                “Who are you?” He demanded instead, leaping back a few steps.

 

                Hirako backed off as well, Zanpakutou resting casually against one shoulder. “Careful, Kurosaki Ichigo. Your reiatsu is fluctuatin’.”

                Ichigo’s eyebrows twitched but he made an effort to reel in his reiatsu again. Zangetsu had said that once he could hide his reiatsu without conscious thought, he would be able to start working on sealing his Zanpakutou as well.

 

                “There, now answer my question,” Ichigo prompted impatiently, watching Hirako like a hawk.

 

                Hirako sighed, glancing off to the side when they both felt the dark presence of a few Hollows appearing in various spots in the town. “Well, at least ya only attracted two.”

 

                Ichigo glared. “Stop stalling; were you sent from Soul Society?”

 

                Hirako snorted. “Hell no, don’t be dumb. Do I look like a Shinigami ta ya?”

 

                And before Ichigo could respond (with a resounding _yes_ ), the blond had reached up and, in front of Ichigo’s widening eyes, a white Hollow mask formed in Hirako’s hand.

 

                Ichigo tripped back a step, gaze sliding past Hirako. There it was – a pharaoh-like phantom figure donned in some sort of white armour hovering above the blond’s right shoulder, but it was faint, like Engetsu had been several weeks back when Ichigo had first seen his father’s Zanpakutou spirit.

 

                Except Hirako was certainly not low on powers. And there was only one spirit; this one looked like it could pass for the Zanpakutou so where was Hirako’s Hollow?

 

                “A Zanpakutou and a Hollow mask,” Hirako was saying. “Ya understand, don’t ya? I am a Shinigami that has stepped into Hollow territory. Didn’t I say, ‘let’s be friends’?”

 

                Ichigo frowned, flicking a glance up at Hakuran as his Hollow drifted closer, an ugly expression marring his pale features. _:I don’t like ’im, King.:_

 

                “I am a Visored,” Hirako finished with a smirk. “I am your kin.”

 

                _:He’s intrudin’, is what he is!:_ Hakuran snapped crabbily.

 

                “Come to our side, Ichigo,” Hirako invited assertively. “Ya don’t belong on the Shinigami’s side.”

 

                _:We don’t belong on any side but our own!:_ Hakuran rounded on Ichigo. _:King, let’s ditch this loser! We don’t need ’im! He probably wants ta use us for somethin’! Just like the Shinigami wants ta use that badge ta do somethin’ ta us!:_

 

                Ichigo shot the Hollow a sharp look to shut him up. There were only so many conversations he could hold at any one time without giving himself away, and Hirako required his full attention.

 

                But Ichigo was nothing if not brutally honest.

 

                “No thanks,” Ichigo turned the blond down, and Hakuran snorted with laughter when Hirako face-faulted for a split second.

 

                “Didn't ya hear a word I just said?” Hirako complained as he recovered. “You're a Visored too; you’ll need our help.”

 

                Ichigo sighed, sheathing his sword onto his back again since it seemed he wasn't going to need it. He crossed his arms. “And I'm just supposed to believe you? I don’t even know you. Just because we’re alike doesn't mean I'm instantly gonna drop everything and follow you home, no matter what you offer me. Exactly how stupid do you think I am?”

 

                Hirako cocked his head, studying Ichigo as if he wasn't quite what the blond had expected. “...Okay, Kisuke sent me. Does that help?”

 

                Ichigo narrowed his eyes. He held up one hand, the other reaching into the folds of his Shihakushou for his phone. “One moment.”

 

                And right there in front of Hirako’s slightly slack-jawed incredulous face, Ichigo dialled up the Urahara Shouten, waiting three rings before the call was picked up.

 

                _“Hello, you’ve reached-”_

 

                Ichigo didn't let the shopkeeper finish. “Geta-boushi, it’s me.”

 

                _“Oh, Kurosaki-san! How may I help you on this fine night?”_

 

                Ichigo rolled his eyes. “I just called to confirm something. Did you send some guy named Hirako Shinji to see me?”

 

                _“Ah, he’s revealed himself then. I did, yes. I'm sure by now you've figured out that there’s something not quite right about you. Shinji-san can explain and teach you how to handle the problem.”_

 

                _:I ain’t a_ problem _!:_ Hakuran objected loudly, having been shamelessly eavesdropping.

 

                “He’s not a problem,” Ichigo retorted at almost the exact same time, his tone coming out terser than he had planned. Before Urahara could ask any questions, Ichigo curtly thanked the man and hung up.

 

                Reviewing his words, he figured he probably shouldn't have said that, but it wasn't as if he could take it back now.

 

                “Right, your story checks out,” Ichigo directed at Hirako. “Still, I'm not interested in your offer. I can handle myse-”

 

                He broke off when a surge of familiar reiatsu – stronger than Ichigo had ever felt in the few occasions that the man had let it leak out – washed over them like a tidal wave.

 

                “Oyaji!” Ichigo whirled to face the direction that his father had – for whatever reason – decided to let his reiatsu erupt. He ignored the sharp look Hirako sent him.

 

                _:Utilize your senses, Ichigo,:_ Zangetsu lectured gravely. _:One of the Hollows you attracted earlier when your control slipped; which Hollow did you summon? You should know this one better than any other.:_

 

                Ichigo frowned in concentration, and then froze when he realized that he _did_ recognize it.

 

                How he hadn't noticed Grand Fisher’s distinct, repulsive reiatsu before was a mystery to him.

 

                He drew his Zanpakutou.

 

                “Oi, you're not thinkin’ of rushin’ off, are ya?” Hirako prodded. “We’re not done here.”

 

                Ichigo pinned a glare on the blond as he felt his anger roil beneath his skin. “I already gave you my answer. We’re done. I have more important things to do now.”

 

                And without another glance backwards, he Shunpoed off at top speed, his spirits at his heels, Hirako already forgotten.

 

                Grand Fisher. The Hollow that had killed his mother.

 

                And his father was facing it.

 

* * *

 

 

                As it turned out, Ichigo hadn't needed to rush. By the time he got there, Isshin was already delivering the finishing – and only – blow.

 

                “Oh, Ichigo!” Isshin grinned jovially at him, the expression not reaching his eyes whatsoever. “You’re late, and you left your body in such a vulnerable situation. Shame on you!”

 

                “Yeah, Ichigo!” Kon caterwauled, leaping to his feet. “I almost got killed!”

                Ichigo didn't pay either of them any mind, gaze focused on Grand Fisher’s carcass instead.

 

                After all these years, the thing was finally dead, and it hadn't even been Ichigo who had killed it.

 

                It left him feeling... oddly numb.

 

                He didn't know how long he stood there staring, watching the Hollow dissipate and wondering why the thing wasn't evil enough for Hell to take it.

 

                He jumped a little when a large hand clapped down against his back.

 

                “Come on, son,” Isshin sighed, looking more tired than Ichigo had ever seen him. “Let’s go home.”

 

                And in a daze, Ichigo allowed himself to be ushered back to their house where Karin and Yuzu were probably waiting, not yet asleep. Zangetsu and Hakuran floated after him, their presences solid for all that they weren’t quite corporeal.

 

                “Stop beating yourself up about what happened to your mother,” Isshin told him right before they stepped through the front door, Kon having switched places with Ichigo again and had sped off to who-knew-where. “Grand Fisher is dead. It’s time to stop grieving, Ichigo. You won’t forget her just because you let yourself heal.”

 

                Ichigo said nothing as his father slipped past him and disappeared inside, hollering for the girls. He took a minute to compose himself, staring up at the starry night.

 

                Those had been uncharacteristic words for Isshin to say.

 

Still, perhaps that was because his father had known that that had been exactly what Ichigo had needed to hear.

 

* * *

 

 

                Ichigo skipped school the next day, making a trip to the cemetery instead with a sandwich and a thermos of tea for lunch.

 

                He stopped by the florist’s on the way, buying a small bouquet of yellow tulips – his mother’s favourite – before continuing on.

 

                He didn't say anything when he reached the grave, simply placing the flowers down and clearing a few weeds that had popped up since the last visit. He stayed for three hours, going through all the memories he had of his mom and enjoying a meal and some tea in front of her tombstone. His family did that sometimes, pretending to have lunch with Masaki even though she was no longer with them. Even Hakuran knew better than to interrupt.

 

                Shortly after one in the afternoon, Ichigo got to his feet again, bid his mother goodbye, and left.

 

                His shoulders felt lighter than they had ever since the most important person in his world had died.

 

* * *

 

 

                “Geta-boushi, are you busy tod-” Ichigo pulled up abruptly after he barged into the sitting room and found both Urahara and Hirako sitting at the table.

 

                “Guess you are,” Ichigo surmised, already turning around again.

 

                “Now, now, Kurosaki-san,” Urahara called after him. “There’s no need to leave so quickly. Did you need something?”

 

                Ichigo scowled moodily at the doorframe before reluctantly facing the two Shinigami – one Shinigami, one Visored – again. Above Urahara, Benihime offered a nod and a sympathetic smile.

 

                “I was just wondering if you were busy right now,” Ichigo muttered, glancing circumspectly at Hirako before focusing on Urahara. “You promised to teach me some Kidou.”

 

                Urahara smiled over his teacup. “So I did. And I might be willing to show you a few Kidou spells today but, in exchange, you must satisfy my curiosity of your whereabouts today. What’s this I hear about you playing truant?”

 

                At once, Ichigo frowned thunderously, first at Urahara and then at Hirako who had evidently snitched on him. The blond grinned back unashamedly, toasting him with his mug.

 

                “That’s none of your business,” Ichigo bit out. “What does it matter anyway?”

 

                “An inner Hollow screws with your sanity,” Hirako interjected with unexpected candour. “We just wanna know it wasn't yours that made ya skip school taday.”

 

                “It wasn't,” Ichigo scoffed while Hakuran sneered.

 

                Hirako waved a hand at him. “Indulge us.”

 

                Ichigo stared from to the other, weighing the pros and cons of walking out right then and there. But he wanted to learn Kidou, if only so that the twins wouldn't have such an easy time kicking his ass, and Urahara was the only one he felt comfortable asking for lessons from.

 

                “My old man killed Grand Fisher last night,” Ichigo spat out at last, voice unnaturally cold. “I went to visit my mom’s grave today.”

 

Benihime looked ready to bash her wielder’s head in. Hakuran had aimed a kick at Hirako but, of course, the assault passed harmlessly through the blond.

 

                It did make Ichigo feel moderately better though.

 

                A stilted silence followed, broken only by the whir of the fan overhead.

 

                “Now can I get those lessons or is the inquisition not over yet?” Ichigo asked coolly. He wondered if he was picking up Benihime’s personality.

 

                Urahara cleared his throat and rose to his feet, setting his teacup aside. “Of course, Kurosaki-san.”

 

                Ichigo grunted and stalked out of the room, heading for the trapdoor that led down to the training area.

 

                Sometimes, he wished Byakuya would visit him. At least the Sixth Division captain was a man who had always made his opinion of Ichigo perfectly clear.

 

                And right now, Ichigo could kill for some clear-cut, I-have-no-other-motives-when-I-say-something-to-you interaction.

 

* * *

 

 

                “Try again. Don’t concentrate on the output of your reiatsu; you have more than enough. Focus on shaping the spell instead.”

 

                Ichigo gritted his teeth and attempted it again. He felt the spell build in his hands, and he tried to control it, but as soon as he thought he had a good grip on it, the power built, too much and too fast, and Ichigo yelped as the entire thing detonated in a sizzling shower of blue sparks.

 

                Ichigo hissed, shaking out his hands and grimacing at the minor burns inflicted on them. He was used to Kidou burns; god knew the twins gave him more than his fair share, though those injuries usually hurt less than these.

 

                Urahara’s fan clacked shut, and Ichigo winced. They'd been going over the same Hadou spell – Byakurai – for over three hours and even the shopkeeper’s patience had to end sometime. “What am I doing wrong?”

 

                Urahara hummed thoughtfully, tapping his chin with his fan. He didn't look at all like he was about to scold Ichigo for being so slow (which, if Ichigo had been the teacher, would've already happened). “Hmm, explain to me again what you're thinking when you attempt the spell.”

 

                Ichigo raked a hand through his hair in frustration. “Well, I'm just trying to control it, to make sure the spell won’t explode, which it still _does_. It always slips away from me at the last second.”

 

                Urahara tugged absently at his hat (patched up again after last time) for a moment, the brim lowered far enough that it shadowed his eyes. And then he looked up again, nodding decisively. “Alright, this time, try thinking only of the end result. Your goal is to hit that rock; imagine the Byakurai hitting that rock. Don’t think about how to do it or how to contain it or anything of the sort.”

 

                Ichigo had no clue how that would help but it wasn't as if he had any other ideas so he shrugged and allowed the necessary reiatsu to surge through his body once more.

 

                Following Urahara’s instructions, Ichigo focused on the rock ten feet away instead, visualizing the streak of lightning that he had once seen Byakuya perform flawlessly – albeit on Ichigo; _that_ wasn't fun – hitting the rock and shattering it into a thousand pieces.

 

                And this time, it was different.

 

He breathed in, then out, and he could feel his reiatsu respond, flowing down his arms, through the palm of his hands, and... _out_.

 

The flare of cobalt lightning was a shock, especially when it sprang out of his palms in a coiling streak of pale blue light like a striking cobra, tearing towards the rock with deadly intent.

 

It wasn't one-hundred percent accurate, slamming into the rock too far to the right so that only part of the boulder shattered upon impact, but-

 

But it had _worked_.

 

Ichigo blinked stupidly at the partially demolished boulder even after the spell had disappeared. And then he whirled around, finding Urahara smiling at him, and he couldn't quite quell all the triumph welling up inside him.

 

“Did you see that?” Ichigo crowed, trying and probably failing to not sound like a little kid, especially when the peanut gallery was practically goading him on, Benihime clapping proudly if still in a dignified manner, Hakuran giving him a toothy grin, and Zangetsu nodding his approval. “I did it! It worked! ....Why did that work?”

 

Urahara chuckled softly, tucking his fan away and coming forward to heal some of the damage to Ichigo’s hands. Behind him, further away on a different rock, Hirako had stood up, looking mildly impressed.

 

“You're a creature of instinct, Kurosaki-san,” Urahara told him. “You were simply fixating too much, and subconsciously, that directed far more reiatsu into the spell than you strictly needed, which is why I told you to focus on something else.” He paused. “I do wonder though – that Byakurai came out more concentrated than I expected. Did you have anything in mind when you were shaping it?”

 

Ichigo scratched his head. “Uh, well, I was thinking of that time Byakuya blasted a hole through my shoulder with a Byakurai. He did it with only one finger though.”

 

Urahara’s eyebrows had flown up at the mention of Ichigo’s prior injury at the hands of the captain but made no comment on it. “I see. Yes, if you've experienced it before, that would help. And it takes many years of practice to execute Byakurai with only one finger; it requires far more finesse.”

 

The shopkeeper’s smile turned crafty. “Although knowing you, it would probably only take a few months if you put your mind to it.”

 

Ichigo scowled, stomping down on his embarrassment. He knew his growth rate when it came to anything battle-related was ridiculously fast, but to him, it was normal. He was still Human, after all; needing centuries – or even just decades – to learn something was mind-boggling.

 

“That one spell still took me three hours though,” Ichigo grumbled.

 

Urahara made a sound at the back of his throat like he was choking back laughter. Even Hirako, who had slid off the rock and had approached them – though he stayed a respectable distance away (meaning out of Ichigo’s sword range) as if making an effort to not set Ichigo off again – snorted with dry humour.

 

“Have you heard of the Shin’ou Academy in Seireitei, Kurosaki-san?” Urahara enquired, and at Ichigo’s nod, the shopkeeper continued, “Typically, with the exception of a handful of prodigies, every Shinigami in the Gotei 13 is required to go through the Academy’s six-year curriculum. In other words, most of the foundation techniques and knowledge that an average officer knows is acquired during those six years, and would be perfected with self-practice outside of class, and then built upon even further after graduation once they officially enter the service of the Gotei 13. Kidou is no different. Simpler spells like Byakurai are taught, reviewed, and expanded on throughout the first two to three years before students move on to harder spells in the fifties and up during the latter three years. No spell is ever entirely perfected during those school years, merely learned.

 

“With that in mind,” Urahara peered at him with no little amusement. “Three hours is hardly anything to scoff at, Kurosaki-san.”

 

Ichigo reddened. Oh. Rukia hadn't told him that when she had pointed out the Academy to him.

 

“Now then,” Urahara nodded at the partially intact rock. “One more time, and then we’ll call it a day. You've made good progress today, Kurosaki-san.”

 

Ichigo nodded, coughing to hide a laugh when Benihime mimed patting Urahara on the head – hat – in a ‘good boy’ gesture.

 

She smirked back at him.

 

* * *

 

 

                One shower and a promise from Urahara that Ichigo was welcome back any time for more lessons later, Ichigo was on his way home.

 

                With a tagalong.

 

                Ichigo had to give the guy props; Hirako was obstinately persistent if nothing else.

 

                “How long are you gonna follow me?” Ichigo asked crossly.

 

                Hirako sauntered after him without a hitch in his step despite Ichigo’s glower. “Until ya agree of course; I'm not givin’ up after only two days. I’ll continue buggin’ ya until ya concede.” A side glance, unsettlingly critical. “’Sides, you’re already a Visored; there’s no changin’ that. Whether ya like it or not, you're already one of us. If ya don’t learn how ta control your inner Hollow, you’ll put the people around ya in danger. If ya continue on as a Shinigami, you’ll just be devoured by your inner Hollow, lose your mind, and end up hurtin’ all your friends and family.”

 

He paused, eyeing Ichigo shrewdly. “Haven't ya noticed? Your Hollow should have already begun gettin’ stronger at an unimaginable rate. But ya can come with me, and I’ll help ya keep your sanity.”

 

Ichigo was fuming by the time Hirako finished. Where did this guy get off assuming all these things about him? Did Ichigo _seem_ unhinged or something?

 

“Look,” Ichigo stopped in his tracks, turning to face the blond. “I... _appreciate_ your concern, but I'm fine. My Hollow’s fine; he’s not giving me any trouble. _We’re fine_.”

 

Hirako’s eyes narrowed, and the Visored scrutinized him for a long tension-filled minute. “...Ya said, yesterday, ta Kisuke, ‘he’s not a problem’. What did ya mean by that?”

 

Ichigo twitched. “Do you two make a habit of trading gossip about me in your free time?”

 

Hirako shrugged lazily, not missing a beat. “Nothin’ better ta do.”

 

Ichigo threw his hands in the air, sharing an annoyed look with Hakuran who was practicing his sword swings by pretending to decapitate Hirako. Irritated as he was, Ichigo made no move to stop his Hollow. It wasn't like it could really hurt the blond anyway.

 

“I meant what I said,” Ichigo sighed at last. “He’s not a problem. Not to me.”

 

 _:Yeah,:_ Hakuran jeered. _:I promise ya I’ll be a problem ta our enemies!:_

 

And perhaps that was a good thing, Ichigo thought as he tracked Hirako’s hand to where it was now resting lightly on the hilt of his Zanpakutou. Especially now.

 

Ichigo’s own hand dug into his pocket for the badge even as he backed away to give himself more room and more time to leave his body. Behind him, Zangetsu loomed menacingly without even trying, and Hakuran’s grin had become bloodthirsty.

 

“You're kinda paranoid, aren’t ya?” Hirako commented as Ichigo readied his badge to separate his soul from his body.

 

Ichigo smiled grimly. So sue him. After meeting people like Urahara who buried the part of himself that manifested in the lethal but radiant figure of Benihime, and Ukitake who smiled through his lies and spoke kind words when _his_ soul manifested in a pair of children who couldn't quite hide their guilt, Ichigo had learned to be more than a little wary of all the technically-dead people around him.

 

And he couldn't even see Hirako’s Zanpakutou spirit _or_ Hollow to at least get a good read on the man.

 

So yeah, if that made him paranoid, then so be it. Better safe than sorry and all that.

 

“So are you,” Ichigo shot back, arching an eyebrow at where the blond’s hand was positioned. “I'm not crazy but you're ready to stab me as soon as you _think_ I am.”

 

“Kid, I don’t need any more evidence on that front; I _already_ think you're crazy,” Hirako assured. “Heard all about how ya stormed Soul Society and took on the entire Gotei 13 with a bunch o’ other teenagers just ta save a girl ya’d barely known for two months. If that’s not insane, I don’t know what is.”

 

Ichigo scowled. “Rukia’s my friend; of course I went after her. Now are you looking for another fight or can I go home without a stalker following me around?”

 

Hirako rolled his eyes, and then, before Ichigo could react, the blond had disappeared in a rush of Shunpo, hooking an arm around Ichigo’s waist and dragging him off in a heartbeat.

 

As soon as they came to a stop and Hirako had dumped him back on the ground, Ichigo was up and spitting curses even as he leapt out of his body, bringing his Zanpakutou around in one smooth motion as he snarled, “What the fuck, asshole?!”

 

Hirako had also drawn his blade, and his mask was already formed on his face. “Show me. Ya’ve obviously gotten in touch with your Hollow, and ya think ya can handle it. So show me.”

 

 _:Do it, King!:_ Hakuran was seething beside him. _:He even asked for it! Let’s show ’im what we’ve got!:_

 

 _:But keep a level head, Ichigo,:_ Zangetsu cautioned. _:He has far more experience with his Hollowfication than you do, never mind his ability with a Zanpakutou as well.:_

 

Ichigo glared furiously. “Fine, if I show you, will you leave me alone?”

 

Hirako smirked. “We’ll see.”

 

“Tch,” Ichigo raised a hand to his face. “Then I’ll just kick your ass until you won’t _want_ to come back!”

And with Hakuran cackling in his ears, Ichigo concentrated on pulling his Hollow to the surface, smoothly moving over to make room for his counterpart. They had worked hard on merging together, and the time it took for them to fuse had steadily decreased after each practice session.

 

And even before his mask had fully formed, his heightened senses thrummed an aggressive warning through him, and Ichigo wasted no time throwing himself backwards, Shunpoing as quickly as he could away from the threat.

 

The moment the world solidified and steadied before him, Ichigo whirled through a complicated pattern of upside-down flash steps that carried him up, over, and past Hirako in a gust of wind, and before the blond could turn, before _Ichigo_ could turn, Hakuran had already guided Ichigo’s arm back and downwards in a blurring slash meant to injure, and injure _bad_.

 

Unfortunately, Hirako was already moving by the time Zangetsu sliced into the blond’s shoulder, and Ichigo only managed to nick the Visored, probably not even drawing blood, before Hirako had slipped away like water.

 

Ichigo didn't give him time to recover, throwing himself at Hirako before using the same opening move as he had with Urahara, twisting behind the blond to attack again. Hirako was ready for him though, not surprised like the shopkeeper had been, most likely because the older Visored didn't know Ichigo’s original fighting style like Urahara had.

 

Before Ichigo could blink, a kick from nowhere slammed into his solar plexus, sending him flying as all the oxygen was violently yanked out of his lungs.

 

He managed to right himself in midair, staggering to a halt before dodging to the side just as Hirako’s Zanpakutou whistled down where Ichigo had been half a nanosecond ago.

 

 _:Fifteen seconds up, King!:_ Hakuran barked at the back of his mind. _:Only thirty left!:_

 

Ichigo sent a fleeting acknowledgement back even as he brought up his Zanpakutou to block the next series of blows raining down on him, deflecting and parrying for his life as Hirako forced him back with a merciless assault.

 

There were no holes in Hirako’s defense, Ichigo realized with sudden, dismayed clarity. Or if there was, Ichigo just wasn't good enough to find and exploit them.

 

 _:Then do somethin’ he wouldn’t expect!:_ Hakuran screeched. _:We’ve got twenty seconds left and if we can’t even draw blood once by the end of it, I’ll possess ya and run naked through this town the next time ya fall unconscious!:_

 

Ichigo mentally cringed. That wasn't going to happen even over his dead body.

 

“ **Dammit!** ” He spat out when Hirako’s next vicious onslaught almost knocked Ichigo’s Zanpakutou clean out of his hands in addition to slamming Ichigo into the hard ground below.

 

Ichigo used the resulting dust that rose from the human-sized crater in the sandy earth to buy himself a few seconds of respite.

 

Something Hirako wouldn't expect...

 

 _:What did you learn today, Ichigo?:_ Zangetsu enquired rhetorically, and Ichigo’s eyes widened.

 

 _:Ten seconds!:_ Hakuran interrupted impatiently.

 

Right then, nothing to do but try.

 

Ichigo sucked in a breath and took off at his fastest Shunpo.

 

Up in the air once more, Ichigo barrelled into Hirako, wasting no time to switch his Zanpakutou into his right hand and surreptitiously gather reiatsu into his left, angling his body so that Hirako wouldn't see what he was doing.

 

With a deft twist of his wrist, Ichigo slid their crossed blades together so that the bottom edge of his own Zanpakutou hiked against Hirako’s Zanpakutou’s tsuba, locking it in place so that Hirako couldn't pull away for a few precious seconds.

 

And then he struck.

 

Ichigo’s hand darted forward, slapping against Hirako’s right shoulder. “ **Hadou Number 4: Byakurai!** ”

 

Hirako’s grey-on-black eyes widened.

 

The world exploded.

 

* * *

 

 

                “Ya ruined my shirt.”

 

                Ichigo leaned on his Zanpakutou, using it as a crutch as he gasped for oxygen that seemed to be in short supply. His mask had disappeared when he had hit his time limit, and like every other time, he now felt ready to keel over and sleep for the rest of the week.

 

                Still, he dragged his head up and glared sullenly at Hirako, a glimmer of satisfaction sparking in his chest when he took in the shredded remains of the blond’s previously pristine white shirt, and the fair-sized wound that Ichigo’s Byakurai had left behind, the burn spread out across Hirako’s right shoulder in blotches of painful-looking red.

 

                “S’yur own fault,” Ichigo slurred. “Y’wouldn't leave me alone.”

 

                This time, Hirako didn't smirk or shoot back a witty quip. Instead, the Visored, Zanpakutou sheathed once more and no longer wearing his Hollow mask, stared at Ichigo like he had never seen anything like him before.

 

                “You’re still sane,” Hirako remarked out of the blue.

 

                “Give the man a prize,” Ichigo sassed, beyond giving two shits about the fact that if he pissed Hirako off enough, the blond was more than capable of bashing Ichigo’s face in, especially when he was in this weak a state.

 

                Fortunately for him, Hirako seemed to have Urahara’s temperament because the man didn't react beyond lifting an unimpressed eyebrow.

 

                “It’s what I’ve been _telling_ you since the beginning,” Ichigo tacked on grumpily, heaving himself upright on disgustingly wobbly legs. At least he hadn't passed out this time. That would've been embarrassing.

 

                A hand on his back steadied him, and Ichigo quirked a grateful smile up at Zangetsu. Hakuran, as it turned out, was drained almost as much as Ichigo after their merges, so the Hollow was currently snoozing in their inner world, lucky bastard.

 

                “How?” Hirako approached, only to halt and raise his hands when Ichigo immediately started scrambling away. “Kid, would ya relax? I'm not gonna hurt ya. No more than ya did me anyway.”

 

                Ichigo scowled but stopped again. He had given Hirako that Kidou burn (and a scratch on his back) but the blond had, in turn, given Ichigo at least a cracked rib and more bruises than he could count.

 

                “How what?” He asked instead.

 

                “How did ya get control of your Hollow?” Hirako clarified. “Ya lasted _forty-five seconds_ and ya haven’t even had proper trainin’. It shouldn't be possible. Even your dad said ya were havin’ nightmares on and off.”

 

                Ichigo felt mildly betrayed. “Oh my god, _Goat-Face_ is in on your powwows too?!”

 

                “...I can’t believe ya just said ‘powwows’ with a straight face,” Hirako deadpanned.

 

                “Shut up!” Ichigo snapped, ears burning. He was going to strangle his dad for divulging Ichigo’s _sleeping habits_ to random strangers.

 

                “The nightmares stopped over two weeks ago,” Ichigo explained grudgingly. “My Hollow and I came to an agreement.”

 

                “Ya came to an agreement,” Hirako echoed, looking like Ichigo had just proven that the earth was flat after all. “ _How?_ ”

 

                Ichigo gave the blond a strange look. “How do most people come to agreements? We talked, we almost came to blows, we talked some more, and we... came to an agreement. Simple.”

 

                Hirako covered his eyes with one hand. “Simple, he says. Jeez, kid, do ya realize how... _impossible_ that is? What ya just said is _impossible_. Inner Hollows chew away at your sanity. They want out, they wanna kill, they want full control. They’re the darkest parts of ourselves, and if ya don’t train ta beat them down and lock them away, they’ll take ov-”

 

                “I don’t get that,” Ichigo interrupted, frowning again. “Look, from what I understand, my inner Hollow is basically me, right? Like you said, the darkest part of myself, but still me, and to keep from going completely insane, I have to accept that part-”

 

                “-by fightin’ them for control,” Hirako finished almost agitatedly. “One slipup, one perceived weakness, and they’ll be bustin’ down the door ta get out again-”

 

                “You’re not listening to me!” Ichigo burst out, more frustrated than ever before. “Hell, are you even listening to yourself? How is fighting your inner Hollow and beating them down, locking them up and throwing away the key – how is all that supposed to mean _accepting_ your inner Hollow? That’s just shoving it down and doing your best to ignore it! You think ignoring it is gonna make the problem go away? That doesn't even work in real life, much less when you’re balancing your own soul! That’s just running from the problem! And the problem doesn't even _have_ to be a problem! You're just overcomplicating things!”

 

                Hirako was very nearly gaping, probably would be if it had been anyone else. “That’s... not how it works. We fight them, yes, but we accept them into ourselves. It took a while when I fought my inner Hollow but when it stabbed me in the end, it didn't do me any harm. I accepted it, and it disappeared. I just have ta make sure I don’t get emotional enough ta lose control and let it take over.”

 

                Ichigo squinted at the blond. “You... _let_ it stab you? Well, I can’t really say I get that but your Hollow is still pretty much waiting for an opportunity to come back and attempt another takeover of your body, isn’t it? Doesn't that mean it still has some control over you?”

 

                Hirako stared for a long moment once again, expression unreadable. “...What did you... _talk_ to your Hollow about?”

 

                Ichigo scratched his head. “I basically told him that I wouldn't let him control me, that he was part of me so there was no point because I'm the one in control anyway. He’s- My Hollow is my desperation, my fear, my anger, all of that, and obviously, I’ll feel all those things sometime or another, over and over again, but that doesn't mean I’d let those feelings rule me. I _wouldn't_ let them rule me, rule my decisions, so my Hollow shouldn't be able to either. He has no hold over me. It’s simple logic. And after that, my Hollow just sort of... well, his weapon disappeared, and he sulked a bit, but we came to an agreement to work together. That’s it. ...Does that make sense?”

 

                “No,” Hirako sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. “I- Yeah, maybe, I don’t know.” He smiled, expression tinged with sardonic amusement. “Although I think ya just tossed all of Kisuke’s research over the past century straight out the window and probably clean outta the stratosphere.”

 

                Ichigo shrugged, stumbling over to his body and hopping back into it, wincing as he stretched. The rib still wasn't quite healed yet despite the accelerated healing he had in Shinigami form.

 

                “Maybe your way works for you,” Ichigo said, turning back to face Hirako. “But it won’t work for me.” He glanced up and around the blond, spirit nowhere in sight. “And... And I don’t think I want it to work for me.”

 

                Hirako nodded, hands slipping into his pockets. “Fair enough. Ya look like ya have a handle on your situation. Still,” The increasingly familiar smirk painted the Visored’s face as he turned to leave. “You're not gettin’ rid o’ me that easily. I’ll see ya tomorrow, Ichigo.”

 

                Ichigo rolled his eyes as Hirako disappeared, no doubt Shunpoing back to the Urahara Shouten.

 

                Well, at least the man wouldn't pester him about Hakuran anymore.

 

                Hopefully.

 

* * *

 

 

                _:You are my wielder’s son.:_

 

                Ichigo sprayed half a mouthful of water all over his desk, earning startled cries and alarmed looks from the classmates sitting around him, including a raised eyebrow from Hirako.

 

                “Kurosaki-kun, are you alright? What on earth are you doing?”

 

                Ichigo scrambled for a tissue and hastily mopped up the liquid, shooting an apologetic look at his teacher. “Sorry, choked on my water.”

 

                His gaze slid sideways at the figure dressed in red, flickering flames dancing along the hemline of the spirit’s overcoat.

 

                _:Ah, so you_ can _see me; I did wonder. A word in private then, if you please. I assume you cannot talk freely in front of other Humans.:_

 

                Ichigo sighed under his breath, put down his pencil, and waved a hand in the air, already getting to his feet. “Sensei, I need to go to the bathroom.”

 

                “What? Class just started! Why didn't you go at lun- Kurosaki-kun!”

 

                Ichigo was already making a beeline for the door, ducking out into the hall and zooming off for the nearest bathroom.

 

                He clattered into the men’s room, checked that no one was inside, and quickly closed the door behind him.

 

                And then he turned to take in his father’s Zanpakutou spirit.

 

                This was the most corporeal Ichigo had ever seen him, decked out in a dark red, long-sleeved, flame-edged overcoat, with strands of fire whipping about his head in place of hair. The spirit had no distinct physical features though, more like a solid shadow with eyes that glowed like hot coal and a similarly coloured ember mouth. The rest of him – or at least what Ichigo could see – was night-sky black from head to toe.

 

                “Um, hi,” Ichigo greeted awkwardly. Already, this spirit reminded Ichigo of Isshin in the rare occasions when the man was serious.

 

                The spirit inclined his head. _:Good afternoon. You are Shiba Ichigo, correct?:_

 

                Ichigo blinked. “Uh, yeah, I guess, but our family goes by Kurosaki now.”

 

                If the spirit had eyebrows to raise, he probably would have. _:I see. I have only just recently fully awoken, and most of my energy has been expended towards rebuilding Isshin’s reiatsu; you will forgive me if my knowledge at this time is outdated.:_

 

                Ichigo shrugged. “No worries. Uh, by the way, what are you called?”

 

                The spirit seemed taken aback. _:Isshin has been remiss, I see. I am Engetsu, and you, little guardian, have the extraordinary ability to interact with the soul spirits around you.:_

 

                Ichigo scowled a little at the nickname but overlooked it in favour of nodding. “Yeah, I've been able to since I first met a Shinigami.”

 

                Engetsu gained a thoughtful air. _:Interesting. Isshin has never shown such an ability, nor has any Shiba that I know of.:_ A measured, burning look. _:Does your father know?:_

 

                Ichigo stiffened. “I- No, he doesn’t. And I’d appreciate it if you didn't tell him.”

 

                Engetsu cocked his head. _:May I ask why? I can assure you, Isshin would not turn you onto the street for being unique.:_

 

                Ichigo scratched his head awkwardly. “That’s not it; I know he wouldn't do something that drastic, or even anything at all beyond some surprise at first. It’s just- I don’t know, we’ve always been like this – I don’t really tell him my business, and he doesn't tell me his. It works.”

 

                Except it doesn't, at least not anymore, not since Ichigo had stormed into the clinic to demand some answers. Of course, all he’d gotten in the end was a confirmation, but still, he now had a promise from Goat-Face about receiving some answers in the future.

 

                “Goat-Face is keeping some things from me as well,” Ichigo countered, and he hated how defensive he sounded. Honestly, he didn't even know why he wanted to keep this to himself for at least a little while longer; it wasn't as if his father would sell him out or anything. Still...

 

                “When he tells me the secret about my mom,” Ichigo compromised at last. “I’ll tell him mine.”

 

                This time, Engetsu studied him long enough that Ichigo almost started squirming. _:...Very well; it is not my secret to tell anyway.:_ He paused. _:It pains me to hear that you are not close with your father.:_

 

                Ichigo only shrugged dismissively. “Eh, I'm the independent sort; I can take care of myself. The girls – my sisters – they're closer to Goat-Face than I am. I was always closer to our mother.”

 

                Even a month ago, Ichigo probably wouldn't have been able to say something like that so candidly, but all he felt now was a wistful pang of nostalgia. He took that as a good sign.

 

                _:It is still a shame to see such a distance between you and your father,:_ Engetsu remarked disapprovingly. _:The Shibas have always been family-oriented; their loyalty is to each other first and foremost. Even those who became Shinigami would not hesitate to place the wellbeing of their family above the Gotei 13 or political prestige. In this, the Shiba Clan was always far more unorthodox than any other clan in Seireitei.:_

 

                A spike of curiosity coursed through Ichigo. Aside from the information he had gleaned from the library, he didn't know anything else about the clan he was apparently part of. He simply could not imagine anyone he was related to to act like Byakuya or something, so it was nice to hear that the Shibas seemed to have been the black sheep of nobility so to speak. “Hey, do you think you could tell me more about the Shiba Clan? I mean, not now – I have to go back to class – but later?”

 

                Engetsu inclined his head, fiery hair throwing flickering shadows against the bathroom walls. _:Of course. If you have to enquire about your own background at all, then Isshin must have been rather negligent in your education. It is only right that I correct this mistake for him.:_

 

                Ichigo blinked. Wait, what? Did he just inadvertently nab himself a history teacher?

 

Before he could backtrack and maybe convince Engetsu that he would be more than satisfied with just a few tidbits about his Shinigami lineage, a sharp burst of foreign reiatsu reached them, smog-like and heavy and _powerful_.

 

Ichigo straightened, already heading for the door. “What the hell is that?”

 

He glanced back at Engetsu. “I’ll see you later, Engetsu. Get back to Goat-Face just in case he needs you.”

 

And then he threw the door open and hurtled out, almost colliding with Hirako who had just turned the corner at a fast jog.

 

“Hell were ya doin’ in there?” The blond grumbled, producing Ichigo’s badge which was already squawking noisily in their ears. Hirako tossed it to him. “Switch out; there’s trouble.”

 

“What’d you tell the teacher?” Ichigo glowered a bit as he caught the badge, knowing Hirako had most likely pick-pocketed his bag.

 

Hirako gestured at the men’s room. “Bathroom.”

 

Ichigo snorted, stepping out of his body just as Chad and Inoue rounded the corner at a dead run, both of them yelling over their shoulders that they also had to go to the bathroom.

 

“Kurosaki-kun!” Inoue called out as they rushed up. “Is it another Hollow?”

 

Chad cut in before Ichigo could answer. He was studying Hirako almost guardedly. “Is he on our side?”

 

Ichigo remembered how Hirako had drawn the lines. “He’s on his own side, but for now, that side’s the same side as our side, so yeah.”

 

Hirako grinned slyly, giving Ichigo a hand as they both hid their respective bodies under a dusty stairwell. “Good way of puttin’ it.”

 

Ichigo rolled his eyes. “Come on, and be careful.”

 

Hirako snorted as they hastened for the school entrance. “You’re a hundred years too early ta be tellin’ me that.”

 

“Don’t worry,” Ichigo assured him, straight-faced. “I was only talking to Chad and Inoue. We can use you for bait.”

 

Ichigo dodged a half-hearted swipe of Hirako’s sword with a smirk. The blond wasn't so bad when he wasn't trying to recruit him.

 

* * *

 

 

                “Chad!” Ichigo shouted, swearing as he swerved to avoid one of the giant Arrancar’s punches. A dozen feet away, Chad went crashing back through a crop of trees after taking the brunt of another punch courtesy of-

 

                “What did this guy say his name was?” Ichigo asked distractedly as he and Hirako sped forward, slashing simultaneously at the Arrancar’s head.

 

                “The hell am I supposed ta know?” Hirako fired back, flipping away as the Arrancar bellowed in pain and swiped at them when they managed to land a few relatively deep gouges in its face. “Wasn't it monologuing at ya?”

 

                “I wasn't paying any attention!” Ichigo defended, and then disappeared in a flit of Shunpo to scoop Inoue up just as one of the Arrancar’s fists slammed down in the spot she had been standing on half a second ago.

 

                “S- Sorry, Kurosaki-kun!” Inoue stammered out, fear and determination warring for dominance on her face as Ichigo carefully let her down. “I should’ve seen him coming!”

 

                Ichigo offered a bracing smile. Damn, they were just teenagers. His friends certainly shouldn't be apologizing for not getting away from an attacking monster fast enough.

 

                “Don’t worry about it, Inoue,” Ichigo assured, before nudging her in the direction that Chad had fallen. “Listen, you're our healer; could you make sure Chad’s okay? You're the only one here who can patch him up if he’s injured, and that last attack looked like it hurt. Hirako and I will hold the Arrancar here.”

                Inoue brightened, straightening resolutely as she nodded. “I’ll make sure he’s okay. You can count on me, Kurosaki-kun!”

 

                “Oi!”

 

                Ichigo turned back to the battle as Inoue sprinted away towards the general area where Chad had been struck down. Hirako had already sliced off one of the giant Arrancar’s arms but was currently in the process of avoiding another much smaller Arrancar’s attacks.

 

                “Finished chattin’?” Hirako hollered over the big Arrancar’s howls of enraged pain. “I could use an extra sword here!”

 

                Ichigo scoffed, darted forward, and came very close to skewering the smaller Arrancar as he materialized behind it.

 

                “Thought you could handle it, old man!” Ichigo taunted, and then almost got beheaded when the black-haired Arrancar appeared practically on top of him, sword glinting in the sunlight.

 

                Hirako hauled him out of the way just in time, Shunpoing both of them back to the relative safety of the tree line. “Old man my ass; keep your guard up, idiot!”

 

                “Ulquiorra, they’re mine!” The larger Arrancar roared, beady eyes trained on Ichigo and Hirako. “How dare that one cut off my arm?! I’ll flatten him!”

                The smaller one – Ulquiorra – didn't look at all perturbed, expression cold and blank as a wall. “Our orders were to evaluate the boy’s strength, Yammy. Nothing more.”

 

                Ichigo’s eyes narrowed. Evaluate him? He was pretty sure these guys were sent by Aizen but why would the madman want to evaluate him?

 

                Well, he’d have time to think about that later. For now...

 

                Ichigo dashed off again, circling around Ulquiorra who – while smaller – seemed more dangerous than Yammy, and Hirako had already injured the giant Arrancar; Ichigo might as well finish the job.

 

                Weaving between the stream of ceros that came flying towards him, Ichigo ducked into Yammy’s blind spot, spun around, used the Arrancar’s chest as a push-off point, and with a swing of his Zanpakutou, cleaved Yammy’s other arm in half, severing it from the elbow down.

 

                The Arrancar bellowed at full volume, all but deafening Ichigo as he retreated back to Hirako’s side, eyes on both Arrancar to see how they would react.

 

                “Nice,” Hirako commended appreciatively.

 

                Ichigo smirked, but was more interested in the fact that, while both Arrancar clearly had Shinigami powers, neither had spirits hovering around them.

 

                “Are their Zanpakutou like ours?” Ichigo asked as they leapt away from a barrage of ceros.

 

                “No,” Hirako shook his head as they landed in a tree. “Arrancar are still Hollows in the end, just with Shinigami powers. Unlike us, their Zanpakutou are part of them only in terms of power. Ya could say they’re sort of self-wielding Zanpakutou. Right now, they’re in a sealed state. If they release their Zanpakutou, they’ll be at full power. They don’t have Shikai and Bankai like we do. If ya want somethin’ more scientific than that, ask Kisuke.”

 

                Huh. So Arrancar were sort of spirits themselves, except... not.

 

                Well, either way, they were strong, and Ichigo figured beating them as fast as possible was probably the way to go. He reached for Hakuran, who was already chomping on the bit to come out and play.

 

                “Speakin’ of which,” Hirako tacked on, grabbing his arm. “Don’t do that.”

 

                “What?” Ichigo stared at him, and then shoved the blond down when one of Ulquiorra’s ceros incinerated the top of the tree they were standing in, reducing the leafy branches to smithereens. “Why not?!”

 

                “Didn't ya hear ’em?” Hirako made a face at him. “They’re here ta test ya. In battle, Ichigo, ya don’t reveal your trump cards until ya have ta, especially when your enemy is Aizen Sousuke.”

 

                Ichigo paused at this, searching Hirako’s tight expression. “You knew him pretty well then?”

                A humourless smile flickered across Hirako’s face right before the Visored took off. “Ya could say that. He was my lieutenant.”

 

                Ichigo watched the blond disappear into the fray again.

 

Man, all these dead people – in Ichigo’s opinion, they were a messed up lot, and coming from him, that was saying something.

 

* * *

 

 

                “Don’t move,” Urahara ordered as he wrapped up Ichigo’s torso in gauze. “You took quite a beating.”

 

                Ichigo shot a sour look at Hirako who had a cut on one cheek, a dislocated (now fixed) arm, and bruised ribs but had otherwise come out unscathed. “It’s his fault.”

 

                Hirako snorted. “Would ya rather have whipped out every last trick ya’ve got and shown Aizen every single strength and weakness ya have?”

 

                Ichigo griped wordlessly under his breath as Hakuran took up his favourite pastime of stabbing Hirako in the face again. Zangetsu sighed at both of them and gave them pointed looks that said Hirako was right.

 

                Ichigo scowled at him too, just because his head felt funny and every muscle in his body ached from getting smashed into the ground by Ulquiorra.

 

                Benihime perched elegantly on the table, examining Ichigo’s injuries critically. _:You need more training. Even in Shikai, you should have lasted longer than that. You looked quite pathetic lying on the ground like road kill when we arrived.:_

 

                The words came automatically and Ichigo couldn't censor them before they were out. He blamed it on the concussion. “Well, sorry to disappoint, Hime.”

 

                Urahara’s hands paused mid-knot. Hirako looked up from where he was pouring himself a cup of sake.

 

                “I beg your pardon, Kurosaki-san?” Urahara sounded confused.

 

                Ichigo closed his eyes, muttering incoherently under his breath before voicing more loudly, “Nothing. I'm just tired.”

 

                He blinked open his eyes again, grudgingly accepted the faintly semi-apologetic look on Benihime’s face, and leaned forward to rest his head on his arms on top of the table.

 

                “How’re Inoue and Chad?” Ichigo asked drowsily, voice muffled.

 

                Urahara started working on Ichigo’s bandages again. “They will be fine. One of Inoue-san’s spirits was... damaged but she is otherwise unharmed for the most part. Both she and Sado-san are exhausted but some rest will see them back on their feet again soon.”

 

                “That’s good I guess,” Ichigo sighed, his brain moving sluggishly through what ‘damaged’ meant in terms of whether or not Inoue’s spirit would be okay. He gave up after a few seconds; his head was too fuzzy. He’d worry about that later. The important thing was that both his friends were alive.

 

He spared a moment to think – terrible of him – that it was rather convenient that none of them had parents who cared enough or parents _at all_ to forbid them from running into danger like this every other day. Things would be a lot more difficult if they were grounded for this and had to sneak out in the dead of night to protect Karakura.

 

                Then again, Ichigo had to do that anyway, if only because of his sisters.

 

                His eyes drifted shut to the quiet murmurs of Hirako and Urahara holding some conversation over his head, Hakuran’s steady presence at his side as the Hollow lounged back against his shoulder, Zangetsu standing vigil in one corner of the room, and Benihime’s ghostly fingers running through his hair.

 

                He was asleep between one breath and the next.

 

* * *

 

 

                “-weird kid. Ya sure ya haven’t been showin’ him some extra moves? He fights like ya and Yoruichi combined, with his own more straightforward mix thrown in. A touch of Tessai’s Zanjutsu style too, ta be honest.”

 

                “Yes, when I sparred with him, he was moving differently from what I expected. It wasn't until after he left that I realized it was almost as if I had been fighting a weaker version of myself. Yoruichi-san helped him achieve Bankai, and you know what I did, so I'm not too surprised if he’s picked up a few moves by watching us. But Kurosaki-san has never fought Tessai-san before, nor has he seen him fight.”

 

                “Well, however he learned it, his fighting style’s got major potential. For all that it takes after yours, it’s still unpredictable since he’s incorporatin’ it inta his techniques and creatin’ somethin’ new. Kid’s a battle genius if I ever saw one. Better than Kaien, I’d even wager. His growth rate’s phenomenal.”

 

                “And there’s the matter of his Hollow...”

 

                “At this point, I'm pretty certain he’s made _friends_ with it. It’s ridiculous! And he lasted _forty-five seconds_!”

 

                “Yes, you've told me-”

 

                “Yeah, well, I haven’t finished rantin’ about it. I didn't expect him ta last _five_ seconds! Aizen would have a field day if he ever got his hands on Ichigo.”

 

                Ichigo stirred, sleep-fogged brain struggling to absorb the conversation happening several feet away. The voices fell silent when he rolled over, blanket sliding down to his lap as he sat up.

 

                Someone had moved him to the couch because he clearly remembered falling asleep at the table.

 

                “Whaz’a time?” Ichigo yawned, feeling a lot better than before his nap.

 

                “Almost nine,” Urahara reported, bustling over to inspect Ichigo’s injuries and make sure he hadn’t torn anything open. “Inoue-san and Sado-san have gone home. I called your father; you may stay here tonight if you wish.”

 

                Ichigo grunted his thanks, rolling the crick out of his neck and back muscles before planting his feet on the ground.

 

                _:King, I wanna try some sake!:_ Hakuran whined from where he was hovering greedily over the alcohol cabinet in the far corner. _:The old man won’t give me any.:_

 

                Ichigo rolled his eyes as he ran a hand through his hair. “Then I'm definitely not giving you any either.”

 

                _:King!:_

 

                “Give who what?” Hirako asked at the same time, instantly looking suspicious.

 

                Okay, this time, Ichigo had no excuse for the blunder. He offered an awkward shrug. “Nothing, don’t worry about it. Now where-”

 

                “Oh no ya don’t,” Hirako railroaded him, brown eyes shrewd. “That’s the second time ya’ve been mutterin’ random sentences. Who’re ya talkin’ to?”

 

                _:Go with a vague truth,:_ Zangetsu advised. _:It’s usually the best lie.:_

 

                Ichigo inwardly snorted. Wonderful, his own spirit was teaching him how to lie.

 

“My Hollow,” He said blithely. “He likes to talk. Jabbers on nonstop.”

 _:I do not!:_ Hakuran protested, and apparently decided to be petty as he lashed out with one leg, his foot making the entire alcohol cabinet shudder.

 

Ichigo’s eyes widened as the other two occupants in the room turned to look at the piece of furniture now rocking unsteadily against the wall.

 

 _‘I'm gonna string you up by your entrails,’_ Ichigo cheerfully promised in his head.

 

Hakuran flipped him the bird.

 

Benihime drew her sword and clunked the Hollow over the head with the hilt.

 

Ichigo surreptitiously gave her a thumbs-up.

 

Zangetsu heaved a long-suffering sigh and looked ready to wash his hands of all of them.

 

Ichigo ducked his head to hide a grin. When he glanced back up, both Hirako and Urahara were staring at him again.

 

“What _do_ you see, Kurosaki-san?” Urahara murmured softly, tilting his hat back as he scrutinized Ichigo with intelligent eyes.

 

Ichigo inwardly winced, shifting uneasily in his seat. “What are you talking about?”

 

Urahara cocked his head, a cunning smile curling his lips. “Did you know, Kurosaki-san, that I have cameras planted in a handful of places in my underground training area?”

 

Ichigo froze.

 

“They've always been there of course,” Urahara assured. “They’re good for reviewing spars at the end of the day, as well as monitoring the place for intruders just in case. Imagine my confusion when I spotted you on a few recordings, talking and arguing with... nothing that I could see.”

 

Ichigo glanced at Benihime, who suddenly looked very guilty. _:I swear I forgot, Ichigo. I’ve long stopped paying close attention to what Kisuke gets up to around here. And Tessai was the one who set up the cameras.:_

 

Ichigo sighed, waving a hand in her direction. The secret was out anyway, and at least it hadn't come out when he had still been in Seireitei. He didn't really trust Shinji yet, but – despite how secretive the shopkeeper could be, and even accounting for that one time he had attempted to screw them all over for his own plans for the Hogyoku – Ichigo _did_ trust Urahara. That would have to be enough.

 

“Earlier, you said ‘Hime’,” Urahara prodded, looking between Ichigo and the space where Benihime was floating beside Hakuran with an intrigued expression. “As much as I’d like to tease you about it, Inoue-san was in an entirely different room, and the two of you are not that close anyway. On the other hand...”

 

The shopkeeper’s hand dropped to the handle of his shikomizue, and if Ichigo ever needed proof that Urahara was an open-minded genius, this was it.

 

Ichigo raised an eyebrow at Benihime. The spirit shrugged. _:If there is one thing I am certain of, Kisuke will not betray you. He is simply fascinated, as he always is when he stumbles upon something new. You are one of his friends’ son, his own student, he_ does _like you, and he understands betrayal more than most. He will keep your secret if you do not wish for anyone else to know. He keeps enough of them himself as it is.:_

 

Ichigo quirked a wry smile. Right, Urahara and his secrets.

 

“Can you see her?” Urahara’s eyes were bright with uncharacteristic excitement even as his expression stayed calm.

 

Ichigo rolled his eyes before nodding somewhat warily. “I’ve been able to since I first met her. First spirit I met though was Sode no Shirayuki.”

 

 _:But I am better, naturally,:_ Benihime interjected loftily, and Ichigo snorted, focusing on the crimson-garbed spirit.

 

“Well, I suppose so,” Ichigo allowed with a smirk. “But only ’cause I’ve had to put up with you longer- ow!”

 

Benihime had promptly kicked him off the couch, though Ichigo knew that to Urahara and Hirako, it had probably looked like Ichigo had abruptly jerked himself out of his seat.

 

“See, that’s what I'm talking about!” Ichigo scowled, hauling himself upright again as he rubbed his shoulder. “Forget Aizen; that violent temperament of yours is gonna get me killed one day! At your hands, woman!”

 

 _:Manners, brat!:_ Benihime bristled, though the twitch of her lips gave her away. Their banters had long since lost any real antagonism. _:Even after all this time, you still have not learned to curb your tongue.:_

 

Ichigo made a face at her. With Benihime nagging at him all the time, he actually had become a bit more polite. A _bit_. “I'm a teenager; we practically invented bad manners.”

 

“Kurosaki-san.”

 

Oh, he’d forgotten the Shinigami – and Visored – again.

 

Ichigo wondered, not for the first time, if he was spending too much time with spirits.

 

He rubbed the back of his neck, glanced at the undisguised wonder on the older men’s faces, and then gestured at the space Benihime was occupying. “Hime- I mean, Benihime’s over there. Hakuran’s beside her. And Zangetsu’s over by the door.”

 

There was a moment of astonished silence.

 

“...Hakuran?”

 

“What about Sakanade?”

 

Ichigo hesitated, and then answered the less troublesome question first. “Hakuran’s my Hollow.”

 

He looked over at Hirako, missing the disturbed frown on Urahara’s face. “And... well, I’m assuming in your inner world. I haven’t really seen... her?”

 

Hirako nodded tersely, expression taut. “She’s not here?”

 

Ichigo shook his head. “Spirits don’t always hang around out here though. I mean, most of them do, most of the time. I think there are only so many hours they can spend in their inner world before they get bored to tears, especially since Shinigami don’t need them to fight all the time, and you guys can only have long conversations with them when you sit down and meditate properly.”

 

He paused. “I’ve seen her once before, when you first showed me your mask; not very clearly though. She reminded me of a pharaoh except kind of like a... cat too?”

 

The few remaining lines of disbelief on Hirako’s face towards Ichigo’s claim of being able to see spirits faded completely, replaced by an odd smile. “Yeah, she takes the form of a sphinx.”

 

Ichigo mulled that over. Somehow, he thought it suited Hirako. It matched his mask at the very least.

 

“And Benihime is the one who has been training you?” Urahara interjected next.

 

“Uh, yeah,” Ichigo speculated whether or not the shopkeeper would be upset that his Zanpakutou had been hanging out with Ichigo for weeks, arguably months. “At first, she said she’d teach me strategy. I refused but she wouldn't take no for an answer because apparently,” He shot a half-hearted glare at Benihime. “She thought I couldn’t strategize my way out of a paper bag.”

 

 _:I stand by my opinion,:_ Benihime said stoutly. _:And now, after numerous lessons with yours truly, you can. Be grateful, child.:_

 

“Don’t call me a child!” Ichigo sniped back.

 

“Are you two always arguing?” Urahara enquired, looking bemused.

 

“She always starts it!”

 

_:That is your worst lie to date!:_

 

Ichigo traded a glance with Benihime who shook her head in fond exasperation. And then her gaze darted towards her wielder, whose eyes had gone distant. With a sigh, she faded away, returning to her inner world in an instant.

 

“Ichigo.”

 

Ichigo glanced back at Hirako while Urahara remained largely out of it, conversing silently with his Zanpakutou. “Yeah?”

 

The blond’s jaw worked for a moment. “...Ya really can’t see Sakanade?”

 

Ichigo frowned. “No. Maybe she doesn't want me to see her?”

 

Hirako raised an eyebrow. “Ya sayin’ she’s shy?”

 

Ichigo scowled. “Knowing you? Hell no. But there are spirits like that. Tessai-san’s spirit likes me well enough but it prefers staying out of the way so I almost never see it. And I honestly don’t know what Yoruichi-san’s spirit looks like. I’ve only seen glimpses of it, and it’s always gone by the time I try to take a closer look, not to mention she’s not always around anyway. Uh... then there’s Katen Kyoukotsu but I haven’t seen them since I left Seireitei, and Sougyo no Kotowari who pay me a visit every few days for our play date-”

 

“You have _play dates_ with Ukitake’s Zanpakutou?” Incredulous couldn't even begin to describe Hirako’s eyebrows and tone of voice.

 

“They won’t leave me alone!” Ichigo protested defensively. “Back before I came home, I promised them that I’d play with them if they came to me when no one else was around-”

 

Hirako scoffed. “Moron.”

 

“-and they took it as an open invitation to drop in every time my family’s out,” Ichigo finished with an irritated glare. “The first time I tried to refuse them, they dumped a bucket of ice water on me.”

 

Hirako guffawed. Ichigo directed a rude hand gesture at him, and then swore when Benihime flashed back into existence and cuffed him over the head. “Ouch, dammit! Hime, stop doing that!”

 

 _:I will when you learn to stop being so vulgar,:_ Benihime sniffed, drifting down to sit on the couch beside him. _:Honestly, do try not to descend to your Hollow’s level.:_

 

_:Oi, what’s that supposed ta mean, bitch?!:_

 

Benihime shot him a ‘see what I mean’ look before tearing towards Hakuran with murder in her eyes, blade drawn. Hakuran grinned, equally bloodthirsty as he whipped out his own sword as well.

 

Ichigo leapt to his feet, grabbed his Zanpakutou from where it was leaning against one end of the couch, and lunged forward as well, slipping between them just in time to deflect both incoming swords in a rain of sparks that could probably be seen by the others. “Hakuran, Hime, settle down! Jeez, can’t you go one conversation without getting into a fight?”

 

“I,” Urahara announced stridently, interrupting them even as Hakuran and Benihime glowered spitefully at each other. The shopkeeper was literally _pouting_. “Am _very_ jealous right now, Kurosaki-san.”

 

Ichigo gawked at the man for a moment. “Er...”

 

Urahara’s eyes acquired an unsettling glint. Ichigo twitched and leaned away guardedly. Neither of them expected Hirako to chuck a balled-up napkin at the shopkeeper’s head.

 

Urahara yelped. “Shinji-san!”

 

“Knock it off,” Hirako drawled. “No experimentin’ on the poor kid.”

 

Ichigo blanched, levelling his sword at the shopkeeper. “Just try it, Geta-boushi. I’ll kick your ass six ways to Sunday.”

 

Urahara looked positively woeful but raised his hands in a placating gesture. “But you’ll at least tell me what they’re saying when you can, right?”

 

Ichigo rolled his eyes. “Can’t you just ask Hime?”

 

“I could do that too, but that would take longer,” Urahara considered him with an almost baffled smile. “...You do understand that Benihime is a reflection of my soul, don’t you, Kurosaki-san?”

 

Ichigo blinked. “Yeah... and?”

 

Urahara looked almost exasperated. “I should know better than anyone that she isn’t very nice. In fact, she can be downright vicious at times, yet you seem to have... tamed her.”

 

 _:He has not!:_ Benihime instantly shrieked in indignation. _:Tamed me?! Oh, perhaps I have been too lax in your training recently, Ichigo! I will be sure to correct this mistake next time! Tame?! I’ll show you tame!:_

 

Ichigo was horrified. He glared at the shopkeeper. “You just had to go and say that, didn't you? My spars with her are already torture; now she’s gonna step it up just because you can’t keep your mouth shut! I'm gonna die!”

 

Urahara blinked, and then a pleased smirk flitted across his face. Ichigo wished he could smash it.

 

 _:Oi, King, stop paying so much attention to the bitch!:_ Hakuran complained noisily, ducking the sword-swing Benihime aimed at his head. _:I want sake!:_

 

“I already said no!” Ichigo snapped cantankerously. “If Zangetsu’s not giving you any, what makes you think I would?”

 

The alcohol cabinet shook again as Hakuran proceeded to throw a mini temper tantrum.

 

Hirako cocked an eyebrow. “It- He wants sake?”

 

Ichigo pinned the man with a sharp scowl. “Don’t encourage him.”

 

Hirako snickered before the humour in his expression faded and turned speculative. “Ya have two spirits? Like Ukitake and Kyouraku?”

 

Ichigo frowned. “Sort of; one’s my Zanpakutou, the other’s my Hollow. Isn't it like that for you?”

 

Hirako looked puzzled. “No, Sakanade was Hollowfied when I was. She’s a reflection of my soul after all, and my soul was put through the Hollowfication process. Technically speaking, Sakanade _is_ my inner Hollow. Ya could say she now has a... dual personality. Sorta.”

 

Ichigo’s frown deepened and he tossed a glance back at Zangetsu, who looked about as placid as ever.

 

“Souls manifest in different ways,” Urahara interjected mildly, tugging his hat down to shadow his eyes. “Ukitake-san’s Sougyo no Kotowari is a single katana in sealed form, but from what you’ve said, I take it he has a pair of spirits to match his Shikai?”

 

“Yeah...” Ichigo nodded slowly. “I guess that makes sense. Renji’s Zanpakutou is a single blade too but his spirits are split into two personalities.”

 

“Exactly,” Urahara beamed at him in a very suspicious fashion. “Don’t worry about it so much. Now, since Tessai-san has already retired for the night, how about I cook us a late dinner-”

 

“Hell no!” “Over my dead body!”

 

Ichigo blinked a startled look at Hirako who smirked back as Urahara sulked in front of them.

 

“Tasted his food, have ya?” Hirako enquired rhetorically, clambering to his feet and rolling up his sleeves. “Don’t worry; I’ll cook. I'm much better at it than he is.”

 

“Not hard to do,” Ichigo muttered, ignoring Urahara’s protests as he trailed after Hirako into kitchen. “I-”

 

He stopped, eyes immediately drawn to the open window as a swirl of snow whooshed in – invisible to all eyes but his – and solidified to reveal the delicate-looking figure of Sode no Shirayuki.

 

 _:Good evening, Kurosaki-san,:_ She greeted serenely as if she appeared on windowsills every day.

 

“Hey,” Ichigo returned as Hirako and Urahara both spun around to watch the one-sided conversation. “Bit late for a visit, don’t you think?”

 

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Benihime bristle with inexplicable hostility and... something else he couldn't quite place. Odd; as far as Ichigo knew, she and Sode no Shirayuki had never met.

 

The snow spirit inclined her head in apology, cool gaze never wavering from him. _:My apologies for the late hour. However, I find it prudent to inform you that you have, once again, caused quite a stir amongst the senior ranks of the Gotei 13. Word of your fight against two Arrancar – most likely sent by Aizen – has reached their ears. A team will be dispatched to Karakura tomorrow morning. Rukia-sama will be amongst them.:_

 

Ichigo brightened a little. He hadn't seen Rukia in a while, and if she was coming, then Renji would probably be sent as well. “How many are coming?”

 

_:Excluding Rukia-sama, five – Abarai Renji, two Shinigami from the Eleventh, the lieutenant of the Tenth, and led by the captain of the Tenth.:_

 

Ichigo mused on that for a moment. He had guessed right about Renji, they probably wouldn't send anyone weaker than a senior seated officer so most likely Ikkaku and that Yumichika guy (Ichigo couldn't imagine anyone sending the tiny pink-haired lieutenant _anywhere_ , at least not without Kenpachi) from the Eleventh, that dark blonde lady (Matsumoto or something?), and that Toshirou guy.

 

“Cool,” Ichigo nodded. “Thanks for letting me know; you didn't have to.”

 

Sode no Shirayuki dismissed this with a graceful shrug, snow already circling around her once more. _:This is your town after all, and I had little else to do.:_

 

Which was probably the refined version of ‘I was bored and I felt like it’.

 

“Okay,” Ichigo waved. “See ya tomorrow.”

 

The snow disappeared, taking Sode no Shirayuki with it, and Ichigo tuned back into the physical world where Hirako and Urahara were still staring avidly at him. The shopkeeper looked ready to whip out a pen and start taking notes.

 

“What was that about?” Hirako asked casually, reaching for one of the kitchen cupboards. It didn't do much to hide his curiosity.

 

Ichigo pulled out a chair, plopping into it with little poise, which made Benihime sniff. “That was Sode no Shirayuki, Rukia’s spirit. The Gotei 13 heard about the Arrancar in Karakura so they're sending a team here tomorrow. Rukia’s coming, and so is Renji, probably Ikkaku and Yumichika from the Eleventh, that Matsumoto lady from the Tenth, and that Toshirou guy, uh, captain of the Tenth.”

 

This information earned him twin looks of disbelief.

 

“Spirits can relay top-secret information to you?” Urahara looked downright devastated that he didn't have Ichigo’s ability.

 

Ichigo eyed him with no small amount of alarm. “It’s not like it’s _top-secret_ ; we’d all have found out tomorrow anyway.”

Urahara waved a hand. “Semantics. So they can jump between worlds, but only between their respective wielders and you. And I have seen that they can only affect non-living objects, with you being the only exception. They would make singularly unique spies...”

 

The scientist went off on a tangent, muttering under his breath as he whipped out a notebook and began scribbling in it.

 

Ichigo watched the man dubiously before glancing at Benihime. The spirit rolled her eyes. _:Now you understand what I have to put up with on a daily basis.:_

 

“I think ya broke him,” Hirako commented, passing Ichigo a pot. “Know how ta make udon?”

 

“Who _doesn't_ know how to make udon?” Ichigo retorted as he picked up the frozen pre-packaged noodles, and then huffed a laugh when Hirako smirked and jabbed a thumb over his shoulder at the shopkeeper.

 

They worked in a comfortable silence for a while, with Urahara’s indistinct mumbles as background music.

 

“So about Sakanade,” Hirako spoke up ten minutes in, voice a little jarring in the previous lull. “Is that why ya didn't trust me at all when ya met me? Cuz ya couldn't see her?”

 

Ichigo shrugged, removing the lid from the pot to keep the water from bubbling over. “Kind of, but you attacked me out of nowhere, _and_ you were a weirdo in class. I mean you _look_ young but you don’t... Well, I’ve met enough Shinigami to tell that they’re just a bit off from regular Humans. You don't _seem_ young, if that makes any sense.

 

“But souls,” Ichigo flicked a glance back at the three currently stationed in various positions in the kitchen. “From what I've seen, souls don’t... they don’t lie. Heck, I'm half-convinced they _can’t_ lie. I think that makes sense if you consider the fact that they’re manifestations of who you really are on the inside. So I got used to gauging people by their souls, as creepy as that probably makes me sound.”

 

Hirako offered a sardonic smile at this.

 

“Ukitake-san is really nice,” Ichigo added on a whim. “And I think he’s a good guy, but you know that badge I have? He gave it to me. Told me it was just a license, nothing more, to make things official and all.”

 

Ichigo smiled sharply. The expression felt a little bitter on his face. “Smiled right through the entire lie; never even twitched. If Sougyo no Kotowari hadn't looked so guilty, I would've taken him at face-value. At least until I bumped into that Shinigami who didn't know what the badge was anyway.”

 

Hirako was silent for a long minute after that, absently checking on the soup.

 

“Ukitake,” He said at last, looking a little weary. “Is a good man. So is Kyouraku for that matter. But they didn't get ta where they are by not gettin’ their hands dirty, and they're wise enough ta acknowledge that ya could be a very dangerous enemy if given the right incentive.”

 

“Yeah, I know,” Ichigo cleared his throat. “And it’s not like we’re friends or anything; hell, I was an enemy up until that point, so I understand. I mean I don’t like it, but I can understand them wanting to keep an eye on me or something through the badge. I still don’t know what it does.”

 

Hirako glanced at the item in question hanging from Ichigo’s belt. “...It’s for monitorin’ ya. Analyzes your reiatsu and restricts it if ya go off the deep end or become an enemy of the Gotei 13. Again.”

 

Ichigo almost dropped the bowl he had just picked up. “What?!” He hissed.

 

Hirako paid his rising temper no mind. Instead, he craned his head around. “Oi, Kisuke, give the kid somethin’ more convenient than Gikon to separate his soul from his body so he doesn't have ta use the badge, will ya?”

 

Urahara glanced up from his notes, pencil tapping thoughtfully against his chin. “It might take a few days but I'm sure I can figure something out.”

 

“Great,” Hirako turned back to the stove. “There, now ya don’t have ta fret, Ichigo.”

 

Ichigo gave him a deadpan look, anger receding. “You couldn't have done that earlier?”

 

“Ya could've asked him yourself,” Hirako pointed out. “Besides, any earlier than these past few days and I honestly could not have given more than a rat’s ass about ya.”

 

Ichigo sweatdropped. He should probably be insulted, but then again, it wasn't as if he had felt any different about Hirako when he had first met the guy.

 

Besides, the blond was... refreshingly candid.

 

“Thanks,” Ichigo said grudgingly.

 

“No problem. Anyway, back ta Sakanade,” Hirako seemed strangely obsessed with the topic. “Ya couldn't see her, so ya couldn't tell if I was lyin’?”

 

Ichigo nodded. “Basically, yeah. And I could barely feel her through your Zanpakutou, like she was muted or something. ...Didn’t you say that she was Hollowfied as well?”

 

Hirako nodded curtly.

 

Ichigo stopped all movement, turning to stare at the blond with growing horror as realization dawned. “But you... you locked away your inner Hollow.”

 

Hirako slouched against the sink, silent. Even Urahara was watching them with solemn eyes now.

 

“So you can... use your Zanpakutou’s powers and Hollowfied form but...” Ichigo glanced at Hakuran who was scowling sinisterly at the far wall. “When was the last time you communicated with your Zanpakutou spirit? Like, as in communicate without the whole stabbing each other and fighting for control thing?”

 

“One hundred and one years, three months, and five weeks ago, but who’s countin’,” Hirako released a rusty bark of bitter, mirthless laughter as he pushed off the counter and went back to work. “I can still feel her, she’s still there, but there’s always a chance that the inner Hollow part of her will take over if I confront it in any way _besides_ lockin’ it up even after I accepted it. Since I've... stayed away from it for the most part, it hasn’t attempted mutiny again, so I haven’t tried. None of us have. Safer that way.”

 

“...Oh.” Ichigo was suddenly very grateful that he had hashed things out with Hakuran. He wouldn't know what he’d do if he couldn't talk to Zangetsu anymore. Or would nothing change since his soul had manifested into two spirits, and only Hakuran would disappear (until Ichigo lost it big time or something and the Hollow tried to fight him for control again, because knowing himself, that would've more than likely happened sooner or later)?

 

“There are eight of us,” Hirako continued, back turned. “Visored, I mean, excludin’ ya, exiled from Soul Society. We used ta be officers of the Gotei 13 but... well, Aizen happened, enough said. I’ll have ta talk it over with the others – some of ’em might not want to – but I do.”

 

The blond shifted, brown eyes glittering eerily with resolve and just the faintest hint of _Hollow_. Ichigo got the feeling that they had finally reached the crux of the issue.

 

“I wanna try it your way,” Hirako told him bluntly. “I've kept my inner Hollow down for over a century now; d’ya think Sakanade and I could still make it work?”

 

Outwardly, Ichigo gaped at him. Inwardly, he had a colossal panic attack. Why the hell was Hirako asking _him_? It wasn't like Ichigo had a handbook to refer to when dealing with spirits and inner Hollows! When he’d dealt with Hakuran, he had only done what felt right. That didn't mean he automatically knew what to do for someone else!

 

“I-” Ichigo clicked his mouth shut. For lack of anything better to do as he wracked his brain, he reached over and turned off the stove. At least dinner wouldn't burn. “I guess? I mean I don’t see why it wouldn't if you-”

 

He stopped again. He hadn't the faintest clue how to go about doing this. Did Hirako want him to play mediator?

 

He was good with spirits though, or at the very least, he could talk to them and they usually liked talking to _him_ , even the arrogant ones.

 

“Okay,” Ichigo ran a hand through his hair before motioning at Hirako. “Could you... bring her out? Put on your Hollow mask and just- concentrate on Sakanade.”

 

                At Hirako’s acquiescent nod, Ichigo hoped he _could_ do something. After all, he was making this up as he went along, and really, the best decision here was to _refuse_ , turn down Hirako’s implied request for assistance in the delicate matters of the soul.

 

But he hadn't, and if Ichigo screwed up, then this was completely on his head because he had been the one to decide to help.

 

So basically, he couldn't fuck this up, or Hirako would fuck _him_ up.

 

Ichigo just stopped thinking about it as Hirako’s mask formed and the air above the man’s head warped like a mirage.

 

For a moment, Ichigo thought it wouldn't work, that he wouldn't be able to see Sakanade again, but then the faint outline of a sphinx shimmered into existence, alive in a way that the stone sphinxes in Egypt weren’t.

 

The spirit looked more like a cross between a regal queen and a lioness, and Ichigo realized that the white armour he had glimpsed before was actually the bone fragments of a Hollow.

 

And she was staring straight at him like he was her next meal.

 

Literally. There was something almost starved in what he could make out from her expression.

 

“Ichigo?” Hirako was regarding him intently as if he could see what Ichigo could see if he stared hard enough.

 

“Right,” Ichigo nodded as confidently as he could. Damn, he wasn't cut out for this convoluted version of therapy. Therapist had never even touched his list of potential future careers. “She’s there. Just let me-”

 

He concentrated on the ghostly spirit again. “Hi. Uh, you’d be Sakanade, right? I'm Ichigo.”

 

One couldn't go wrong with introductions.

 

The sphinx didn't so much as blink. Her tail lashed behind her but that was the only indication that she had heard him at all.

 

 _:Keep talking,:_ Zangetsu encouraged from behind him. _:I doubt she has had any conversation in the past century.:_

 

 _‘I don’t know what to talk about!’_ Ichigo lamented in his head. _‘Hime’s right; I charge into things headfirst way too much.’_

 

“So how’re you dealing with your, uh, Hollow side?” Ichigo enquired lamely. If he was going to charge in, then he might as well do it properly.

 

Besides, _that_ got a reaction.

 

The sphinx sprang to her feet, fading in and out as her slate grey eyes narrowed. _:Are you mocking me, boy?:_

 

Her voice was barely above a whisper – Ichigo suspected that she _couldn't_ speak louder than that – but the vitriol was the same as it would've been had she shouted.

 

Ichigo hastily backtracked. “Of course not! But Hirako’s missed talking to you-” He glanced at the aforementioned Visored who nodded a go-ahead. “-and he wants to-”

 

Ichigo almost flinched back when Sakanade growled – he didn't even know cat-women could growl – and lunged forward. At once, Hakuran’s blade was out and Benihime had also reached for hers. Ichigo guessed that they would've rushed the sphinx if it wasn't for the fact that Sakanade’s form still looked more like an illusion than a solid entity, and the large clawed paw she had just swiped Ichigo with passed harmlessly through his head.

 

Ichigo _really_ didn't want to know how that would've felt if it had connected.

 

“Whoa,” Ichigo raised his hands, wishing someone up in Soul Society had deigned to write a book on How to Calm Spirits 101. “Easy. Look, I just want to help, but you have to talk to me, not try and kill me.”

 

Hirako shifted from foot to foot, fingers braced against the bottom of his mask as if waiting for a single indication from Ichigo to take it off. Urahara looked equally tense.

 

 _:You see that, boy?:_ Sakanade was also looking at her wielder as she prowled between them. _:He doesn't trust me anymore.:_

 

“That’s not true!” Ichigo objected, and then figured he should at least relay what the spirit was saying to her wielder. Translator was what he was here for after all.

 

“She says you don’t trust her anymore,” Ichigo informed the blond.

 

Even just from the eyes, Ichigo could see Hirako’s vehement denial. “That’s not true; why would she think that?”

 

 _:’Why’?:_ Sakanade snarled, female face twisted into something more intimidating as her fangs – honest to god _fangs_ – flashed under the kitchen lights. _:‘_ Why’ _?! You cannot hear me anymore! You can sense my presence within you but you cannot hear me! What good is a bond like that? You've completely shut me out after what happened! The Hollowfication was not my fault so why are you punishing me for it?!:_

 

Ichigo cringed a little from the anguish in her voice, and before he could say anything, the spirit had withdrawn, air rippling again as Sakanade departed.

 

Beside him, Hakuran pulled a disgusted face and disappeared as well, returning to their inner world without a word, and Zangetsu vanished a second after him.

 

“She’s gone,” Ichigo said, needlessly since Hirako’s mask was already shredding away.

 

“I felt it. What’d she say?” Hirako demanded, the edge of the counter creaking from where the Visored’s hand was curled around it in a white-knuckled grip.

 

“She says you can’t hear her anymore,” Ichigo relayed reluctantly. “That you can sense her, like you said, but not hear her, and a bond like that is... well she... she doesn't like it. She says that you've completely shut her out. And...” He rubbed the back of his neck in discomfort. “She said something about the... Hollowfication? That the Hollowfication wasn't her fault so she wants to know... she wants to know why you're punishing her for it.”

 

Hirako recoiled minutely as if Ichigo had stabbed him. Before he could blink, the man had departed from the kitchen in a rush of Shunpo.

 

“...Guess he’s lost his appetite, huh?” Ichigo sighed wearily, eyeing the cooling udon. Even he didn't feel much like eating anymore.

 

He glanced at the table where Urahara should be, only to scowl when the shopkeeper was nowhere to be found either.

 

 _:I told you,:_ Benihime’s mouth twisted cynically. _:Kisuke has his guilt, even now.:_

 

The spirit faded away a moment later, leaving Ichigo alone in the kitchen.

 

Ichigo heaved another sigh before pulling out the plastic wrap. None of them were eating dinner tonight.

 

Whatever had happened a century ago, Aizen must've screwed them over good.

 

**Please leave a review on your way out.**


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No pairings for Ichigo; there might be hints, but it’s gen in the warnings for a reason.

 

                “I hate my life,” Was the first thing Ichigo told Rukia the moment the lunch bell rang and the two of them had a moment alone as they walked towards the roof where everyone was meeting up for a debriefing. After yesterday’s disaster, Ichigo had gone from ‘maybe being able to talk to spirits is pretty cool after all’ back to ‘damn I wouldn't mind not being able to talk to spirits at all’. At least he hadn't descended to ‘I hate this damn curse of being able to talk to spirits’, which had happened briefly right after he had met Kenpachi.

 

                Rukia rolled her eyes, slapped his arm, and told him firmly but not unkindly, “Suck it up; it’ll get better.”

 

                Ichigo knew there was a reason he had flipped an entire world upside-down just to save this girl.

 

                “Do you want to talk about it?” Rukia ventured as they climbed a set of stairs.

 

                Ichigo considered this. The absolutely shitty turn that his evening had taken last night would have to be kept to himself; after all, that was Hirako’s problem, not his, and he had no business revealing other people’s secrets to anyone.

 

However, he _had_ thought about telling his friends that he could see spirits. Chad and Inoue and even Ishida would most likely take it in stride and not tell a soul but they weren’t... _like him_ , had no Zanpakutou spirits of their own, had enough on their plates what with monsters and madmen coming after them because they had too much loyalty and not enough good sense to stay away from him, without piling something like their more than slightly insane now-part-Hollow friend chatting to thin air on top of all that.

 

There was a reason why people who claimed they could see ghosts in the Human World were usually committed.

 

Rukia on the other hand... Well, for someone he had only known for all of three months, Rukia had quickly been elevated to position of best friend. It was weird how well they clicked, and despite his father’s dramatic sobs about Ichigo growing up and finding a girlfriend and whatnot, it wasn't like that either. Ichigo wasn't really interested in relationships at the moment, and he’d never seen Rukia that way, for all that she’d spent two months in his closet.

 

They were friends, simple as that.

 

And if there was one Shinigami whom he could point to and say with absolute certainty that they’d never betray him, it would be Rukia.

 

They had been strangers when they had first met yet she’d given up her powers all because he had wanted to save his family. She had known the risks of doing so, and had still done it.

 

And Ichigo had had no real obligation to train like hell and invade a city all for the sake of one girl he’d barely known. It had been Rukia’s choice to give up her powers after all, and after the near-fatal damage Byakuya had dealt him, no one would've blamed him for backing out. But he had still done it in the end; the option of _not_ saving her had never even crossed his mind.

 

They had clicked, sometimes a little too well perhaps. For all that Ichigo didn't know much of Rukia’s past (nothing except for the whole killing Kaien thing to save him), and Rukia didn't know all that much of Ichigo’s (nothing again except for the sacrifice his mother had made for him), none of that really mattered to either of them when it came down to it.

 

So Ichigo was comfortable enough with telling Rukia. He hadn't _chosen_ to tell Hirako and Urahara; that had come out because he had been an idiot, and his Hollow an even bigger one. But with Rukia, he had a choice, and...

 

“Not now,” He said as they reached the door leading out to the roof. “Maybe later.”

 

Rukia nodded as Ichigo pulled open the door. “Okay. You better not get all broody over whatever it is though, or I’ll make you sorry you didn't spit it out sooner.”

 

And that was that.

 

* * *

 

                “So Goat-Face succeeded Kaien even though he’s from a branch line because Kukaku didn't want to deal with the politics or the government in general,” Ichigo mused out loud. “What I wanna know most is why the Shiba Clan was kicked out in the first place.”

 

Seated at the end of his bed, Engetsu cut an imposing figure with his flame-bright hair and hellfire eyes. Oddly enough, Ichigo felt entirely safe.

 

                Engetsu considered him for a long second as if he was gauging Ichigo’s temperament. _:...The root of the reason stems from Aizen Sousuke.:_

 

                Ichigo sighed at this revelation. “Of course it did. What did that guy do?”

 

                _:I met with Nejibana shortly before her wielder departed for that fateful mission,:_ Engetsu stated in a low rumbling voice. _:I am fairly certain that she did not inform me of all her suspicions but what she did say was enough for me to form my own conclusions. She mentioned that her wielder had stumbled upon some delicate information that would jeopardize him should it reach certain ears, that that reason was almost certainly what had cost him his wife’s life as well. She did not tell me what that information was, but less than a week after Shiba Kaien’s death had been announced, Aizen Sousuke requested an audience with Central 46.:_

 

                Engetsu paused, gaze sliding to the sunset-bright sky outside the window. _:...Isshin had stepped up as Clan Head by then so he was given the official account – that Aizen Sousuke had uncovered a conspiracy planned by the previous Shiba Clan Head to rebel against the government. Isshin did not believe this, of course, and rightly so – it was all a lie. However, Aizen had managed to convince Central 46, he had proof, though I see now that it was all smoke and mirrors set up through Kyouka Suigetsu._

_:The entire case was classified from the public,:_ Engetsu’s eyes seemed to burn a deeper red. _:Aizen... generously pleaded for the government to keep everything under wraps because Kaien had been a beacon of light and a role model to all Shinigami, and that it would be a shame to take that away, especially since the man was already dead. Central 46 agreed. Only the captain-commander was told. Aizen’s integrity rose in the eyes of the ruling body of Soul Society. And the Shiba Clan was sentenced to exile from Seireitei. They were allowed to continue working inside Seireitei, though they would undoubtedly be monitored, but other than that, they were banned from returning to the city._

_:There was no explanation,:_ The spirit released a mirthless chuckle. _:Age-old Shinigami who have lived by their own laws for centuries are complacent. There were questions, of course, especially from Shiba Kaien’s former captain, but once Central 46 closed their doors and insisted on the entire matter being confidential, it was dropped, swept under the rug and forgotten, so to speak. It did not matter that the Shibas were once friends, that they had always been acclaimed first and foremost for their loyalty. It was simply assumed that they had done something unforgiveable, and that was enough for most people to turn their backs on them. Shiba Kaien’s name was only saved from such stigma because he was dead, and a dead hero is always easier to support than a living disgraced one._

_:So fell one of the Great Noble families of Soul Society. Five became four, and the Shiba Clan – unable to defend themselves, and finding no real assistance from anyone outside – scattered to the four winds. They still live to this day, I believe,:_ Engetsu added. _:The Shibas have always been free-spirited and independent, their children raised outside Seireitei’s walls to give them experience in the outside world, and to remind them that they should never forget the people that the Gotei 13 pledged to protect, so it did not matter too much that they had to rebuild their lives outside the comforts of the capital city._

_:However, the Shiba Clan’s unjust exile gave birth to a long-lasting resentment against the Shinigami. The only reason Isshin remained a captain until he left for the Human World was because he still cared for his squad. All other Shibas cut ties and swore never to lend aid to a member of the Gotei 13 ever again.:_

 

                A mirthless smile split Engetsu’s face like the slash of a dagger. _:The collapse of the Shiba Clan saw an increase in Hollows and deaths. There was a reason why the Shibas were one of the pillars that supported Seireitei. Once upon a time, over a third of the Kidou Corps consisted of Shibas, quite a few healers contributed to the continued wellbeing of many Shinigami, and while not all were quite the level of genius that Kaien was, each Shiba was strong in their own right, and all were assets to the division they served. Even the Shibas who chose to work as civilians closed their shops and restaurants and took their trades into Rukongai instead.:_ An edge of dark satisfaction entered his smile. _:When every single last one of them pulled out, you should have seen the Gotei 13 run, scuttling back and forth like frenzied ants as they sought to keep both their military and their economy afloat._

_:Aizen Sousuke struck a critical blow to the Shibas, and the Shinigami abandoned them as they did the Visored, but it was the Shiba Clan who had the final laugh.:_

 

                Silence descended on the room as Engetsu finished his recount, and Ichigo tried to wrap his head around it all.

 

                The worst thing, he decided grimly, was the fact that he had no trouble believing it. After all, he had already seen firsthand what Aizen could pull with his illusions, as well as the lengths that the Gotei 13 would go to to uphold their laws. After the disaster with Hirako and Sakanade that night, Benihime had given him a succinct overview about what had happened between the Visored and Aizen. Urahara hadn't even been able to defend himself before Central 46 had sentenced him. The Visored hadn't even received a trial. The Shibas getting booted out of Seireitei without so much as an investigation seemed to be par for the course.

 

                “That’s insane,” Ichigo muttered, leaning back in his chair. “No wonder Ganju hates the Shinigami so much.” He stared up at the ceiling. “...The final laugh, huh? Hey Engetsu, I'm not saying the government didn’t deserve the Shibas sticking it to them, but was it really a smart idea to leave the Gotei 13 hanging like that? If Aizen wins, it’s not just the Shinigami who will be affected. He took out Kaien, who probably found out something about him, and he made the Shibas mad enough that they abandoned the Gotei 13, leaving the whole organization a hell of a lot weaker, and that was after half the captains and lieutenants from a century ago were thrown to the dogs as well. Heck, no wonder I was kicking Shinigami ass left and right when I invaded the place; they must've had to promote people a lot sooner than they usually would just so they wouldn't have so many empty positions left. I even managed to pull a win over Byakuya. God knows I can’t beat Urahara-san, and I'm pretty sure Hirako would wipe the floor with my ass. So weakening the Gotei 13 – that _must've_ been Aizen’s real plan, right?”

 

                He peered at his father’s spirit when Engetsu didn't reply right away. The looming shade was watching him, a thoughtful spark in his eyes.

 

                _:Indeed,:_ Engetsu acknowledged. _:On hindsight, it was a rash decision to seek such petty revenge, but it was a decision fuelled by betrayal of the highest order, betrayed by their comrades, and betrayed by the organization that every Shiba – civilian and Shinigami – had sweated and bled and died for, and you cannot say that it was not justified.:_ He cocked his head. _:I am pleased, however, to see that you have a head on your shoulders and know how to use it.:_

 

                Ichigo wasn't quite sure if he should feel flattered or insulted. It wasn't _that_ hard to figure out, was it? Benihime’s little training games of Find the Motive when she spun him hypothetical scenarios of uprisings and coup d’états and political debates at the table were much harder to figure out. He had tried more than once to convince Benihime that he was just too straightforward for all the manipulations and manoeuvrings that happened both on and off a battlefield but the spirit wouldn't hear a word of it.

 

                _:If you're not good at it, then get better,:_ Benihime always insisted adamantly before she would strike up another what-if argument that Ichigo would have to counter (and inevitably fail at it).

 

                _:Revenge is a dish best served cold,:_ Engetsu murmured, his voice like a distant thunderstorm. _:And now that Aizen has revealed his hand, I am certain more than one Shinigami is looking back and wondering just how many other times they have been tricked and played for fools.:_

 

                Ichigo said nothing for a long while. Engetsu was a solemn spirit, with a veteran maturity that he wore like a cloak. But there was also bitterness there, and Ichigo supposed that that was what fed his opinion of the Shiba Clan’s vengeance.

 

                “The best revenge is living well,” Ichigo mumbled, shrugging when Engetsu sliced a blood-red gaze into him. “It’s a quote from somewhere; I just remembered it.”

 

                _:Do you believe in it?:_ The spirit’s voice quieted, reminding Ichigo of a banked fire.

 

                Ichigo ran a hand through his hair, wondering what his life would be like if his father and sisters hadn't coaxed him home from his daily up-and-down meandering by the river where Kurosaki Masaki had been killed.

 

                He probably would've continued brooding until avenging his mother had been all he thought of. And that...

 

                “Yeah, I do,” Ichigo met Engetsu’s severe gaze squarely. “I'm all for revenge when the opportunity presents itself, but committing your entire life to it... If I’d done that after the Grand Fisher killed my mom, I think Kaa-san would've been pretty damn disappointed with me.”

 

                Engetsu said no more on the subject, and Ichigo pulled out his homework when it became clear that the spirit had no desire for further conversation that night.

 

                That was alright. The fall of the Shiba Clan was plenty to keep Ichigo’s thoughts occupied.

 

* * *

 

                “I can’t believe this,” Ichigo muttered under his breath as he fended off the Arrancar’s – Di Roy or something like that? – attacks. Louder, he called back, “Chad, get away from here. Find Inoue and head over to Urahara-san’s. See if you can’t pick up Ishida as well along the way.”

 

                Chad was bleeding sluggishly from various injuries but the teen still looked reluctant to retreat. “Ichigo, I-”

 

                Ichigo snapped out his foot, caught Di Roy in the ribs, and smashed him through three trees before the Arrancar came to a stop.

 

                He glanced back. “...Our promise won’t mean anything if you can’t recover in time to fight next time. These guys are way too strong for you right now.”

 

                Mutinous frustration coloured Chad’s expression but he grimaced and backed off. “Be careful; I’ll find Inoue.”

 

                Ichigo nodded, and then turned sharply back to the fight as Di Roy flung himself at Ichigo again.

 

                Well, Ichigo hadn't let Zangetsu, Benihime, _and_ Hakuran near-kill him in training every day – and Urahara wasn't exactly an easy taskmaster either – just to lose to an idiot.

 

                His resolve firmed. This guy was after his friends; if Ichigo had to kill him to stop him, so be it.

 

                He waited until the last second, and then twisted out of the way. Without hesitation, Ichigo jammed a palm in the Arrancar’s gut as he passed, and murmured, “Byakurai.”

 

                Di Roy only had time to scream before the pale blue lightning exploded from Ichigo’s hand, punched a hole straight through the Arrancar, and shredded muscle and bone inside-out.

 

                Ichigo took a deep breath and stepped back, swallowing hard as the Arrancar’s screech of agony was cut off and the smoking corpse slumped to the ground.

 

                Killing a Hollow that looked like a monster and killing a humanoid Arrancar was... different.

 

                _:King, now’s not the time ta freak out!:_ Hakuran reminded him. _:C’mon, pull yourself tagether; ya can handle a little death. This is what we signed up for when ya decided ta protect your little friends.:_

 

                Ichigo exhaled shortly before Shunpoing off in the direction of the nearest foreign reiatsu signature. “A peptalk from you? Lucky me.”

 

                _:Anytime, King.:_

 

                “Ichigo!”

 

                Ichigo skidded to a stop as Rukia rushed up, Zanpakutou drawn. “What happened to the one you were fighting? I was just coming to help!”

 

                “I got him,” Ichigo said shortly. “He’s down for the count. How many are there anyway? I sensed around five including the one I just got.”

 

                Rukia looked a little astonished but succinctly reported, “There are six as far as I can tell; uh... five now. Ikkaku-san is fighting one, Hitsugaya-taichou is fighting another, Renji’s facing off against another one, and Matsumoto-fukutaichou has one of her own.”

 

                “So,” Ichigo glanced around grimly as Rukia took up position behind him. “Where’s the last one?”

 

                “ _Right here._ ”

 

                They moved in tandem – Ichigo threw himself to the left, and Rukia threw herself to the right, just as a massive reiatsu signature materialized above them.

 

                Ichigo’s breath caught when he wheeled around and spotted someone with blue hair and an insane grin hurtling towards him at frightening speeds. This guy was way, _way_ above Di Roy in terms of strength.

 

And if Ichigo didn't get his act together, he was going to get killed.

 

* * *

 

                _:KING, LET ME OUT!! I REFUSE TO DIE AT THE HANDS OF SOME BASTARD WITH A BAD DYE-JOB!!:_

 

                Ichigo gritted his teeth and ignored his Hollow. It was taking enough braincells to not get pummelled into the ground by the Arrancar he was facing.

 

                “You’re gonna have to do better than this, Shinigami!” The Arrancar – Grimmjow – jeered as one of his fists found Ichigo’s stomach and sent him crashing into the side of a building.

 

                “Sonuva _bitch_ ,” Ichigo spat out along with a mouthful of blood as he rolled to his feet and hurried off in a limping Shunpo to god only knew where. Rukia had been knocked out of the fight earlier on; it had only been luck that had allowed Ichigo to cut in and save her before Grimmjow had been able to impale her with an _arm_.

 

                On the other hand, Rukia had managed to freeze said arm so that Grimmjow was now fighting with a handicap.

 

                Still, she had been clipped in the side and had cracked her head when she had been smashed into a building (and for one awful moment, Ichigo had thought she was dead), but she had just been knocked out, a collection of broken ribs on her left side and bleeding from an ugly gash in her head, so Ichigo had left her in a safe corner with Sode no Shirayuki hovering almost anxiously over her before doing his best to lead Grimmjow away from them.

 

                Ichigo was out of his depth though, and he didn't know what was taking the other Shinigami so damn long. He also didn't know if Chad had found Inoue or Ishida yet and had made it to safety, he didn't know why Urahara or his dad weren’t here to do _something_ , and he certainly didn't know where Hirako had disappeared off to, and whether or not the Visored would come back in time to save Ichigo from imminent death. Hell, he didn't know shit.

 

                But he had never depended on another person to save him anyway, not since his mom had died, and he wasn't about to start now.

 

                “Running away, Shinigami?!”

 

                Ichigo dived out of the way, dodging a punch that probably would've broken his jaw.

 

                _:Ichigo, enough,:_ Zangetsu practically commanded. _:Refrain from merging with Hakuran for now, but we are going to Bankai. Quickly!:_

 

                That was enough for Ichigo, and ignoring Hakuran’s loud complaints, he tossed a Getsuga Tenshou in the general direction Grimmjow was coming at him – again – from, ducked behind a tree, sucked in a breath, and called it.

 

                “ _Bankai. Tensa Zangetsu._ ”

 

* * *

 

                It was a rush.

 

                Ichigo had rarely gone to Bankai during his training sessions with the spirits, mostly because he hadn't always had the option of going to Urahara’s training grounds and letting loose.

 

                Now however...

 

                Ichigo smiled, a twist of Hakuran’s insanity flitting at the edges of his expression as he slammed Grimmjow into the ground below. The Arrancar sent up a plume of dust as he landed on his back, and Ichigo could hear him hacking up blood.

 

                Ichigo was under no delusions – he knew he was still weaker than Grimmjow at the moment; the Arrancar hadn't even gone to his released state yet. But Grimmjow had his pride, and Ichigo had at least gotten the bastard to draw his blade, so Ichigo could either defeat him before he had time to shuck his arrogance and unseal his Zanpakutou or keep him busy until help arrived.

 

                Ichigo preferred the first option.

 

                “You've been holdin’ out on me, Shinigami!” Grimmjow spat out, still grinning madly as if Ichigo hadn't just hit the guy hard enough to leave a dent in the ground.

 

                A moment later, they were clashing in a flurry of metal and punches and kicks, neither giving an inch as they struggled to get one over the other.

 

                Ichigo grunted as another piece of his Shihakushou tore off under the bite of Grimmjow’s Zanpakutou, leaving a messy gash behind.

 

                He was going to be a bloody mess by the end of this.

 

                “Getsuga Tenshou!” Ichigo shouted, flinging the condensed black-red reiatsu towards the Arrancar. As the attack expanded, he took off again, pushing himself to his fastest Shunpo and slipping behind Grimmjow just as the Arrancar attempted to dodge the incoming assault (not an easy feat with a block of ice still encasing his left arm).

 

                Ichigo was there to meet him.

 

                As Grimmjow leapt to the left, Ichigo was already bringing his own Zanpakutou up, and he took great satisfaction in cleaving a gouging line from the Arrancar’s left hip to his right shoulder.

 

                Grimmjow snarled, staggering forward as blood painted the night sky. He brought his sword around but Ichigo didn't hesitate to push his advantage. He lunged, and he knew he’d win if he could just-

 

                _:King, behind ya!:_

 

                Ichigo didn't even have time to fully turn around.

 

                “ _Hadou Number 32: Oukasen._ ”

 

                For a second, Ichigo didn't even realize something had hit him, didn't even realize he was _falling_. All he saw was a beam of sickly yellow light, and even as his instincts urged his body to _movedammitmove_ , the light found its target in the right side of his torso.

 

                For a heartbeat, and then two, Ichigo felt a wet sort of _slap_ around that area, as if someone had smacked a waterlogged cloth against his side.

 

                And then the pain hit.

 

                He didn't consciously realize he was trying to voice his agony until he was choking on his own blood and plummeting out of the sky like a rock as his Zanpakutou slipped out of his hand and he hit the ground with a sickening thud.

 

                Pain exploded in his body, and he caught a glimpse of something wet and dark seeping out from under him. In the distance, he thought he heard several voices shouting his name, but he couldn’t be certain.

 

He was more than thankful when blissful darkness finally washed over his vision and pulled him under.

 

                And the very last thing Ichigo saw was Tousen’s back several feet above him in the air.

 

* * *

 

                “...lucky to have survived...”

 

                “...ambush... ...behind...”

 

                “...of us expected Tousen... ...retrieve Jaegerjaquez... ...didn't stay...”

                “...were you all... ...why... ....leave him alone to... ...strongest Arrancar...”

 

                “...-gaya-taichou, where were... ...captain should have faced...”

 

                “...sent Kuchiki... ...recovering from...”

 

                “...fight was fairly far away from Kuchiki-san... ...must have led the Arrancar away. Kurosaki-san has a tendency for self-sacrifice. From the angle of the injury, Tousen caught him completely by surprise.”

 

                Ichigo moaned lowly, the sound scraping painfully against his sandpapered throat. His tongue felt heavy in his mouth.

 

                A hand cupped the back of his head and carefully tilted it up before the cool touch of a glass was pressed to his lips. Ichigo gulped down a greedy mouthful, almost gagging on it when he swallowed too fast.

 

                With more effort than he’d have liked, Ichigo pried open his eyes, blinking blearily at his surroundings. It was his spirits he looked for first.

 

                _:Over ’ere, King,:_ Hakuran was strangely subdued where he was crouching at the foot of the futon Ichigo was lying on, and while Zangetsu looked as calm as ever behind the Hollow, Ichigo could sense a current of apprehension underneath. Beside him, Benihime had faint worry lines around her downturned mouth.

 

                “Kurosaki-san?”

 

                Ichigo glanced to the side where Urahara was kneeling, arm now resting under Ichigo shoulders. The shopkeeper looked somewhat haggard, and his stubble was a few shades darker, making it more noticeable than usual.

 

                “Do you think you can sit up?” The man enquired.

 

                Ichigo nodded at once. He was awake; no way was he going to just lie there, especially in a roomful of-

 

                Ichigo scanned the room, brain finally catching up with the rest of him.

 

                “What-?” He managed dazedly as Urahara half-lifted, half-supported Ichigo to a sitting position. He could understand Toshirou being here, as well as Yoruichi, and of course Urahara, but he had no idea why Kyouraku was seated a little ways away as well, sakkat removed for once and placed beside him instead. Above his head, Katen Kyoukotsu hadn't stopped staring at Ichigo.

 

                The captain in question caught his eye and smiled. “It’s been a while, Kurosaki-kun. Yama-jii decided to send me to the Human World along with Juu-chan for moral support. He’s seeing your father for a checkup at the moment. It seems the good doctor’s reiryoku is well above average too, and he took the whole Shinigami issue quite well.”

 

                Ichigo took a moment to digest that. “Oh.”

 

                He glanced swiftly at Urahara who nodded imperceptibly. Whatever the shopkeeper had done, it would hold up against inspection.

 

                “I decided to drop in to see how you were doing,” Kyouraku continued, and some of the good humour faded from his face. “How are you feeling? Hitsugaya-taichou had to send word back to Seireitei for Unohana-taichou to come see to your wounds. Inoue-chan did her best but you were losing blood faster than she could replenish it. Or reject it back into your body, I suppose; that’s how I hear her powers work.”

                Ichigo stiffened in shock. He had been that badly injured? “Uh, I feel fine now. Could you thank her for me? Unohana-san must've patched me up really well.”

 

                Kyouraku smiled again, rueful this time. “She wasn't pleased with your state of health. Scolded all of us in her own way for letting you get that badly hurt so soon after last time.”

 

                Ichigo flushed a bit, and then glanced around, eager to grasp onto a different topic. “Where’s Rukia? She was injured too but I had to leave her. I didn't have time to do more than make sure she was still breathing.”

 

                “She is fine,” Urahara assured. “Inoue-san healed her without difficulty, along with Sado-san. Kuchiki-san has accompanied Inoue-san back to her house, and has been on guard rotation duty with Abarai-san ever since.”

 

                Ichigo relaxed, breathing a sigh of relief. “And the others? Where’s Chad and Ishida? Ikkaku and Yumichika? And Matsumoto-san?”

 

                “Your friends are training,” Toshirou stated concisely. “The rest are patrolling the town. We’ll be alerted at once if anymore Arrancar show up. The one you fought was an Espada, Kurosaki, one of Aizen’s strongest-ranking Arrancar, ten of them altogether, and you met another two that first time of course, while the others were Numeros, starting from eleven and down, ranked by birth from oldest to youngest. The one I fought was the oldest.”

 

                “Do you remember what happened, Ichigo?” Yoruichi cut in, feline eyes sharp.

 

                “Yeah,” Ichigo nodded, rolling his shoulders to test how sore he was. The answer was: _very_ sore. “I almost got Grimmjow, but then Tousen popped up out of freakin’ nowhere and blasted me with a- Kidou spell I think? I didn't even know he was there until it was too late.”

 

                “I’ll say,” Yoruichi huffed, and Ichigo caught a glimpse of faint bags under her eyes as she absently brushed back her bangs. “When I got there, you were falling out of the air, and your entire right side was drenched in blood.”

 

                She fired a scathing glare at Urahara, who winced sheepishly. “This idiot should’ve gotten to the battle sooner but he said he was _busy_.”

 

                “I was!” Urahara protested, looking between Yoruichi and Ichigo. “It was very important, and I had honestly thought Kurosaki-san would've had a little more assistance on hand.”

 

                This made Toshirou twitch uncomfortably and the silence in the room descended into awkward.

 

                _:He_ was _doing something rather important,:_ Benihime supported stingily. _:Hirako took off somewhere and Kisuke was trying to find him, not to mention he’s scrapped all his research on inner Hollows – literally dumped everything out; it was the angriest I have ever seen him in a long time – and then he started over from scratch. Additionally, he’s also completed a pendant for you to use in place of the badge, not to mention he was the one to keep your condition stable after the healer girl exhausted herself until the Fourth Division captain arrived to take over. He hasn’t slept since that night in the kitchen, and you have been unconscious for two days.:_

 

                _‘Then he’s been awake for almost a week?!’_ Ichigo mentally spluttered, and then pinned the shopkeeper with a glower. “Get some sleep, idiot; you look like crap.”

 

                Urahara raised an eyebrow. Yoruichi threw up her hands. “Did I miss something? How did we get from blaming Kisuke for having his head in the clouds to fussing over his sleeping habits?”

 

                In the air, Benihime rolled her eyes at Ichigo’s stupidity, and Kyoukotsu sighed in a long-suffering way that told him she wasn't at all impressed by his oversight.

 

                Ichigo gave them both a subtle stink-eye that he hoped conveyed his own absolute lack of appreciation for their completely unwarranted attitude.

 

                “I will be sure to get some rest,” Urahara interjected, surreptitiously nudging Ichigo’s arm in warning.

 

                Right. Staring any longer at patches of air was going to get him caught. Or committed.

 

                “Great, then I should be getting up,” Ichigo threw back the blankets and began levering himself to his feet, only for the entire room to converge on him.

 

                “What the hell do you think you're doing?!” Yourichi pounced on him, changing into a cat mid-leap and sending Ichigo flailing onto his back with an oof. “Do you have any idea how close you came to death? Tousen nearly ripped a hole through your stomach!”

 

                “But I'm fine now!” Ichigo argued, struggling to sit up again and shooing Yoruichi off his chest. “And you said it yourself – Tousen almost killed me. I have to train!”

 

                If a cat could pull off exasperated, Yoruichi could do it with style. “In one ear and out the other. At least give yourself another day to recuperate. Kisuke, back me up!”

 

The shopkeeper froze under the twin glares from both Yoruichi and Ichigo, but apparently, Yoruichi’s – in _cat_ form, for god’s sakes; Urahara seriously needed to grow some balls – was scarier. The man flapped his fan and chirped out, “It won’t hurt to wait another day, Kurosaki-san.”

 

Ichigo scowled fiercely, contemplating the option of blackmailing Urahara with the prospect of never translating another conversation between spirits ever again.

 

And then he dismissed that with a sigh. Urahara had made a soul-separating pendant for him; Ichigo owed him a few conversations for that. Next time this stupid idiot kept him in his sickbed though, all bets were off.

 

“Fine,” Ichigo grouched, suppressing the urge to cross his arms and look like a sulking toddler. He wasn't five. “Can I at least walk around if I promise not to do any training? I want to see my sisters. Oyaji had better have made up a good excuse; I’ll kill him if they think I'm dead or something.”

 

“You've apparently had a bit of a training accident,” Urahara revealed. “They wanted to visit you but your father convinced them that it was an embarrassing training accident and you didn't want anyone to see you until you’d gotten a manly tattoo to cover up the scar-”

 

Ichigo cracked his knuckles, eyebrow ticking with irritation. “I'm gonna kill him.”

 

“Maa, maa,” Kyouraku looked highly entertained. “At least wait until he’s finished diagnosing Juu-chan. A murdered doctor won’t be much use to anyone, and you should always make plans to find a place to hide the body before carrying out any kind of assassination.”

 

Ichigo smirked. It was hard not to like Kyouraku.

 

“I have to get back to work,” Toshirou interrupted, apparently fed up with their nonsense. The guy frowned as much as Ichigo did. “Don’t strain yourself, Kurosaki.”

 

And with that said, the captain strode out the door, stiff-backed as always. Just before Toshirou disappeared from sight though, Ichigo caught a glimpse of a tall green-haired man, face marred by an X, glancing curiously back at him.

 

“If I didn't know better,” Ichigo muttered, scratching his head as he averted his gaze from Toshirou’s spirit. “I’d say he hated me.”

 

“Toshirou-bou just blames himself,” Yoruichi dismissed with a swish of her tail. “He was appointed the leader of the team sent to Karakura to help out with the Arrancar threat, and you and the other Humans were unofficially his responsibility too. Not only did Sado-kun get hurt, you almost died, and against one enemy who really should’ve been _his_ opponent instead, and another enemy who’s a traitor from Soul Society. That Grimmjow character was the leader of his little gang of Arrancar after all, and Tousen is self-explanatory. He feels it should’ve been his duty to confront both, not yours.”

 

Ichigo squinted at the cat to make sure she wasn't joking. And then he snorted. “That’s ridiculous. The guy was clearly after me, and besides, if Tousen hadn't cut in, I would've gotten Grimmjow. Since I'm not allowed to do anything strenuous, someone here go hit him on the head for me.”

 

Yoruichi grinned a cat-grin. “Consider it done. Messing with that kid is almost as fun as messing with Byakuya-bou.”

 

Ichigo blinked. _Byakuya-bou_?

 

Yoruichi cackled and sauntered out of the room, undoubtedly off to cause mischief and mayhem.

 

 

“I’ll leave you to your rest then, Kurosaki-kun,” Kyouraku also got to his feet, placing his sakkat back on his head as he turned for the door. “Don’t do anything rash. I’ll pass word on to your father that you've woken up.”

 

“Aa, thanks, Kyouraku-san,” Ichigo called after the man’s retreating back, waving at Katen Kyoukotsu as they drifted out after him.

 

For a minute, neither Ichigo nor Urahara spoke as they waited for the sound of the front door opening and closing for the last time.

 

 _:Finally!:_ Benihime snapped, sounding more than a little annoyed. _:I thought they would never leave.:_

 

Ichigo raised his eyebrows at her. “Don’t like strangers in your house? I thought you’d know Kyouraku-san and Katen Kyoukotsu at least.”

Benihime’s lips thinned. _:I do, as does Kisuke, but I did not see Kyouraku Shunsui or any of the old captains come to our defense a century ago. I will never forgive them for that. If not for the consequences to every living being in all three plains of existence, I would leave the Shinigami to hang themselves.:_

 

Ichigo eyed her pensively for a moment, thinking of the Shibas and their apparently eternal split from the Gotei 13, before looking over at Urahara, who had been waiting patiently for him to finish up. “Oi, Geta-boushi, your Zanpakutou hates Kyouraku-san. And quite a few other captains at that.”

 

Benihime’s hair seemed to bristle. _:You did not have to tell him that, impudent child.:_

 

Ichigo scowled right back. “Don’t be an idiot. _You’re_ the one who complained that Urahara-san was neglecting you. How do you expect that to change if you don’t tell him how you feel and continue keeping all your thoughts inside you? Communication is key, you know, and god I sound like a relationship counselor.”

 

He ducked just in time as Benihime grabbed a book off the shelf beside her and threw it at his head.

 

“Neglecting, hmm?” Urahara sighed, one hand darting out to snatch the book out of the air. “If you’ll excuse me, Kurosaki-san, I think Benihime and I need to have a long overdue chat.”

Ichigo said nothing as the shopkeeper exited the room, and with a last half-disgruntled, half-almost-anxious glance in Ichigo’s direction, Benihime streaked out after her wielder.

 

Ichigo flopped back onto the futon, draping an arm over his eyes as he complained loudly, “I didn't even get to ask him what he did to hide my dad!”

 

He paused and glanced at Zangetsu and Hakuran before looking towards the door where Urahara had just exited through. “I think,” He told his spirits with a snort. “The three of us have the best relationship between wielders and spirits, and considering the fact that it’s _me_ and an _old man_ and a _Hollow_ , that’s just _really_ pathetic.”

 

 _:Don’t go insultin’ us, King,:_ Hakuran rebuffed crabbily. _:We’re the best; that’s all there is ta it.:_

 

Ichigo blew out a breath, not quite hiding a faint smile. As much as he complained about them – mostly Hakuran – he wouldn't trade these two for the world.

 

 _:Although next time, take my damn advice and summon me. I’ll personally find a way ta make your life hell if we ever end up almost dyin’ again cuz ya were too busy thinkin’ ’bout_ strategy _.:_

 

Ichigo could really do without the backtalk though.

 

* * *

 

                When Ichigo woke up again from a fitful doze that he hadn't really planned on taking, his right side was mostly healed but still aching. He opened his eyes and almost jumped out of skin when he found Hirako lounging next to his futon, back against the wall under the window and idly reading a book.

 

                The blond glanced up. “Finally awake, sleepin’ beauty? Ya’ve slept another half day away. It’s past two in the mornin’ right now.”

 

                Ichigo automatically scowled, the sentiment ruined when he had to smother a yawn. “You’re back; where’d you run off to? Could've used an extra sword around here.”

 

                Hirako smirked briefly at his own words being thrown back at him. “Sorry, I went home for a bit; wanted ta tell the others about ya. By the time I got back, this place was in an uproar so I had ta stay outta sight. Apparently, even Unohana-san had to be called down. Ya don’t do things halfway, Ichigo.”

 

                Ichigo glowered, pushing himself upright. “If Tousen hadn't shown up, I would've won. Grimmjow wouldn't have had a chance to unseal his Zanpakutou and I would've gutted that crazy bastard.”

 

                “What ya did was pretty impressive already, from what I hear,” Hirako clapped his book shut and tossed it aside. “Ya took out a lower-levelled Arrancar and saved your friend, not ta mention that Kuchiki girl too. _Again_.”

 

                “But I didn't even sense Tousen coming,” Ichigo griped. “And I had to use Bankai to match Grimmjow, and he wasn't even in his released state.”

 

                “Ya didn't use your Visored powers though,” Hirako pointed out.

 

                “Zangetsu wouldn't let me,” Ichigo admitted.

 

                Hirako looked almost bemused at this. “Wouldn’t _let_ you...?”

                “He advised against it,” Ichigo amended.

 

                “He _advised_ against it,” Hirako repeated, shaking his head. “Jeez, Ichigo, every time I turn around...”

 

                Ichigo scowled again, and then his gaze caught the sliver of white peeking out from one of Hirako’s sleeves. “Are those... bandages? What the hell happened to you?”

 

“What, this?” The blond shrugged, though now that Ichigo was examining the Visored more intently, he could see that the usually fluid movement was slightly stiff, not to mention there was a scatter of fading bruises on various parts of his body that wasn't hidden by his clothes. “Eh, collateral damage, ya could say.”

 

Ichigo shot him an irritated look for the perfectly unhelpful answer. Hirako smirked and clarified, “Sakanade.”

 

And all at once, as if simply saying her name had triggered it, the shadow of a sphinx shimmered into existence, prowling across the windowsill, her slitted grey eyes luminous with the reflection of the moon. She didn't speak, probably couldn’t, and her anger was still there, shaking the air around her like a heat wave, but it was a simmering sort of fury now instead of the typhoon of rage that it had been before. She stared at him for a long moment, unreadable for the most part, and a few seconds later, she faded away once more.

 

                He lowered his gaze back to Hirako, who looked far more pleased than Ichigo had ever seen him. “Ya saw her then?”

 

                Ichigo nodded. “What did you do?”

 

                “Kept my mask on and tried ta get through ta her,” Hirako explained. “I still can’t actually hear her but it was... better, ’specially after I let her pound on me for a few hours, and apparently, those injuries actually reflect on my physical body. Ya didn’t tell me about that,” The blond admonished, but he didn't really look all that concerned about the issue so Ichigo didn't bother pointing out that he hadn't actually known about this tidbit since he had confronted Hakuran here in the outside world.

 

“I only defended myself when her Hollow side began takin’ over,” Hirako continued. “And I tried talkin’ her down instead of hittin’ back. Stayed for as long as I could before I had ta leave my mindscape.”

 

                Ichigo couldn't help feeling impressed. He knew Sakanade had been almost too far gone to reason with, and who could blame her after being locked away for a century, and by her own wielder to boot, so it really took balls to face a mistake like that head-on all for a near zero-percent chance of getting her back, and Hirako had managed to figure it out with only the half-assed amateur information that Ichigo had been able to offer him. Their bond was obviously in no way repaired yet but it was a definite start, and Hirako was clearly determined to fix it no matter how much of a beating he had to take.

 

                “The others had no idea what was happenin’, just that I was bleedin’ and turnin’ black and blue while I was meditatin’,” Hirako added wryly. “Hiyori almost bashed my head in for that.”

 

                Ichigo’s brow furrowed. “Hiyori?”

 

                “Another Visored,” Hirako snickered, eyes gleaming. “You’ll meet her sooner or later. It’ll be... explosive.”

 

                Ichigo eyed the blond warily. Hirako’s grin was a little too evil. “...And why would I meet her?”

 

                “Ah, about that,” Hirako leaned forward, resting his elbows on his thighs, and then he winced and shifted back, rolling his shoulders ever so slightly. “I have a suggestion.”

 

                “Sounds ominous,” Ichigo muttered. He got a light smack around the head for his efforts.

 

                “Don’t be a brat,” Hirako instructed with a roll of his eyes. “Kisuke told me that ya can barely wait ta get back ta trainin’ again, so I was thinkin’, ya can come home with me. I’ve got ex-captains and ex-lieutenants lined up for ya ta fight, so you’ll get in plenty of spars against very strong people. Ya can even keep up with your Kidou trainin’; one of us – Hachi – used ta be in the Kidou Corps, second only ta Tessai. He’s even better at it than Kisuke.”

 

                “And what do you want in exchange?” Ichigo asked directly because Hirako could be a sneaky bastard like that.

 

                Hirako smirked in approval. “Ya help us with our inner Hollows. I haven’t told ’em about your little talent for seein’ spirits yet so they'll only find out if ya agree. And they all know how ta keep their mouths shut about important things. We’ve been in hidin’ for a century now; we know a thing or two about secrets. So how ’bout it?”

 

                Ichigo considered it. Aizen had evidently taken an interest in him, and he doubted the madman was going to just leave him alone from here on out. But talking to eight different Hollowfied spirits and working out their problems was going to take a hell of a long time, and he somehow doubted Hirako’s Sakanade was the worst of the lot.

 

                On the other hand, they’d help him get stronger, which was always a plus.

 

                “What do you think?” Ichigo tossed back at his two spirits.

 

                _:It is a sensible idea,:_ Zangetsu granted.

 

                _:Do we have ta?:_ Hakuran griped. _:We can still get stronger trainin’ on our own.:_

 

                _:But the Visored will prove to be a new challenge for us,:_ Zangetsu pointed out calmly. _:And fighting against people with Hollow powers similar to ourselves could prove to be useful in the future when we will inevitably face more Arrancar.:_

 

                Hakuran grumbled and crossed his arms but finally jerked his head in acquiescence. _:Fine, but I don’t like it.:_

 

                Ichigo snorted and turned back to Hirako. “Okay, I’ll go with you.”

 

                Hirako seemed to have taken the entire one-sided discussion in stride, merely nodding at Ichigo’s answer. “Good. We’ll leave tomorrow. Remember ta pack a bag and tell whoever ya need ta that you’ll be gone for a while. I trust ya know how ta be discreet?”

 

                Ichigo scowled and dropped back onto his futon. “Yeah, I know.”

 

                Hirako smirked and picked up his book again ( _The Art of Peace_ , Ichigo noticed; he appreciated the irony). “Just makin’ sure.”

 

* * *

 

                “-my comrade, and she-”

 

                “-sorry, but I cannot-”

 

                “-fine, Sado-kun, I-”

 

                Ichigo had been listening to snatches of the three-way argument from the top of the open trapdoor for going on five minutes now but he figured it was time to cut in and see what the stupid shopkeeper had done to get Chad of all people this riled up.

 

                “What the heck is going on?” Ichigo demanded as he swung down into the training area. “Geta-boushi, I need a word with you before I leave. What’s taking so long?”

 

                Chad rounded on him, clearly looking for support. There was a rare frustration burning in his eyes that automatically made Ichigo pin the shopkeeper with an accusing look. Chad was very hard to piss off, and never for anything short of an apocalyptic reason. “Ichigo, Urahara-san won’t train Inoue because her attack spirit was destroyed by Yammy. If she doesn't get training, she’ll be in danger when enemies come again. She could _die_ , all because she won’t be as well-prepared as she could be.”

 

                “It- It’s okay, Sado-kun, Kurosaki-kun,” Inoue jumped in with a strained smile. “I understand why I should stay out of the fighting now that-”

 

                “Aizen isn’t going to leave you alone just because you stay out,” Chad cut her off flatly. Inoue flinched a little and the larger teen softened minutely, letting his uncharacteristic anger ebb. “You're already involved. It’ll only be dangerous for you to not receive any training.”

 

                Chad glanced expectantly at Ichigo again, and Ichigo shrugged. “He’s got a point, Urahara-san. Just because Inoue’s lost Tsubaki doesn't mean she’s useless. She’s the only one of us who can heal worth a damn, sometimes better than you even since her method is a lot more straightforward. She just needs to work on her stamina. She doesn't have a black belt for nothing either, and some training’s gotta be better than none.”

 

                “But she will not be able to stand against an Arrancar, Kurosaki-san,” Urahara maintained adamantly.

 

                “Then she’ll at least be able to hold them off long enough for one of us to get to her,” Ichigo insisted stubbornly. He could already see the refusal in Urahara’s eyes though, and he knew there was nothing he could say to change the shopkeeper’s mind, but he also knew – recognized – the look on Inoue’s face, the bitter edge of helplessness when one realized that they were totally powerless to lend aid when there was nothing more they wanted to do.

 

                “It’s fine, Kurosaki-kun,” Inoue interrupted, forcing another smile. “I don’t mind-”

 

                “Inoue, you're gonna have to lie better than that,” Ichigo told her straightforwardly. “I deal with master liars on a daily basis.” He paused, running through his options. “...Okay, fine, Geta-boushi won’t train you so there’s obviously nothing for you to do here. So come with me. To Hirako’s hideout.”

 

                Inoue’s mouth dropped open a little, shock colouring her features, quickly followed by hope. “But what would I do there? I can’t attack with my powers-”

 

                “Yeah, but you don’t _have_ to use your hairclips all the time,” Ichigo reminded her. “Look, if no one else will, and I doubt they’d turn you down, but if they won’t, then I’ll spar with you, get you used to fighting people who are faster than you, and you can also work on strengthening your other spirits while you're there.”

 

                Inoue’s smile came a little easier this time. “But would the Visored want me there?”

 

                Ichigo shrugged. “Well, Hirako already likes you-” He raised his voice to the trapdoor where he could sense Hirako eavesdropping. “-to an almost inappropriate degree, you pedophile!” He lowered his voice again, ignoring the indignant splutters from above. “And you’ll be coming along with me so they shouldn't have any problems with it.”

 

                Inoue beamed at him, a faint blush staining her face now as she nodded vigorously. When Hirako swung down as well, nodding his assent at the questioning look directed at him, Inoue thanked him profusely and rushed off to pack, promising to be back within the hour.

 

                “I don’t mind, but are ya sure about this?” Hirako asked as Ichigo traded a nod with an appreciative Chad.

 

                Ichigo frowned. “Inoue’s a lot of things, and tough is one of the ones at the very top of the list. Besides, if you leave out Shunpo, you’d be surprised how badly she can kick your ass. And like I said, she can work with her other spirits in the meantime.”

 

                Hirako grunted, posture falling back into a slouch. “...There might be somethin’ that can be done about that spirit of hers. Hachi might be able ta fix it.”

 

                Ichigo’s eyebrows shot up. “Yeah? And you couldn't have brought that up earlier?”

 

                Hirako shrugged. “I’m not gettin’ her hopes up for nothin’.”

 

                Oh. Well, that made sense.

 

                “And ya better tell her about your thing,” Hirako added, already moving away. “If she’s gonna be around, she’d have ta be unbelievably clueless ta not notice.”

 

                Ah. Ichigo sighed, glanced at Chad’s inquisitive expression, and proceeded to drag his long-time friend off to explain.

 

                It looked like he was going to be telling his friends sooner rather later after all.

 

* * *

 

                Chad and Inoue reacted about as well as Ichigo had expected. They didn't truly understand the significance of Ichigo being able to see other people’s spirits (and in some ways, Ichigo didn't either; it was _normal_ for him) so they accepted it as another of his quirks without batting an eye. However, he also tracked down Rukia and Renji and told them as well, and they reacted with a few extra gasps and holy-craps.

 

                (“This should seriously be impossible,” Renji declared for the umpteenth time with wide eyes and a dumbfounded expression.

 

“This is Ichigo,” Rukia pointed out, and Ichigo couldn't decide whether or not he should be offended when Renji cocked his head in thought before shrugging and nodding in a yeah-that-makes-sense-the-crazy-bastard-is-always-pulling-impossible-shit-so-why-not-this-too kind of way.)

 

                But they promised not to tell, and Ichigo and Inoue’s road trip to Hirako’s place was delayed a few extra hours when Rukia and Renji wrangled him into the role of translator for them and their spirits.

 

                (“Who’re you calling a baboon, you baboon?!” Renji bellowed at his blade as Ichigo facepalmed and tried not to laugh when Zabimaru continued taunting their wielder.)

 

                (“I am blessed to have such a beautiful wielder, but you would look even better if you grew your hair out,” Sode no Shirayuki announced, and Ichigo relayed her words with only mild discomfort. Rukia blushed and fingered the ends of her raven locks thoughtfully.)

 

                Ichigo also tried to hunt down Ishida but the Quincy was strangely elusive and either wasn't at home or wasn’t answering the door. Either way, Ichigo didn't have time to find him so he left the other teen a text message to A: get his head out of his ass, and B: contact Chad if the Quincy wanted to know what Ichigo had wanted to tell him.

 

                And then he and Inoue were off.

 

                _:You boorish barbarian!:_ Benihime screeched in his ear when they were just about to leave the shop. Ichigo and Hirako could Shunpo, Inoue could not, so Ichigo would – obviously – need to carry her (because he certainly wasn't letting _Hirako_ do it).

 

Over his shoulder.

 

 _:Carrying her like a sack of potatoes!:_ Benihime ranted on as Ichigo grimaced and the others watched him with varying levels of curiosity. _:Have you absolutely no sense of courtesy?!:_

 

“Alright, alright!” Ichigo snapped, heat rising in his face as he let a perplexed Inoue back onto her feet, thought about it for a moment, and then – he was going to save himself the embarrassment of bridal-carrying her – turned around and told her to hop up.

 

“I hate your Zanpakutou, Geta-boushi!” Ichigo yelled over his shoulder as he zipped off, trying to ignore both the mortification in his own expression and the flaming red of Inoue’s face when she had no choice but to tighten her arms and legs around him from behind to prevent herself from falling off at the speed Ichigo was going at. Ichigo thanked every deity he knew that Inoue was wearing jeans today.

 

Behind him, Hirako snickered mercilessly at their expense as he Shunpoed after them, Urahara hid a smirk behind his fan as he waved them off, and Benihime – noticeably happier ever since Urahara had talked to her – watched them go, her laughter following them straight out of town.

 

* * *

 

                First contact with the Visored, Ichigo soon found out, came in the form of two sandaled feet.

 

                “YOU’RE LATE!”

 

                Ichigo swore as wooden sandals slammed into his face as soon as he had put one foot through the warehouse door, propelling him backwards and onto the ground. Behind him, Hirako was being no help whatsoever and was instead laughing his ass off. Inoue fluttered beside him, looking torn between whipping out her spirits and helping him up.

 

                “What the hell?!” Ichigo yelled, leaping to his feet again and reaching for his sword even as his gaze fell on a-

 

                “Shorty,” He deadpanned, blinking at the short blonde decked out in a red jogging suit.

 

                “WHAT DID YOU CALL ME, DICKHEAD?!” The midget roared back, and for such a small person, she sure had a set of lungs on her.

 

                “You heard me!” Ichigo retorted, cautiously leaving his sword on his back. “Who the hell are you? And what’s with attacking me out of nowhere?!”

                The girl bared her teeth in a human mockery of a snarl, shadowed eyes wary and looking for a fight, and without answering, she launched herself at him again, sword swinging around with murderous intent.

 

                Ichigo _did_ grab his Zanpakutou this time, the bandage sheath unravelling in time for him to block the incoming sword, and then he stopped.

 

                He didn't move even when the girl came flying at him again, and it was Hirako who stopped laughing long enough to slide between them and deflect the blonde’s Zanpakutou with a flick of his own blade.

 

                Ichigo was still stuck on trying to breathe, trying to haul himself out of the drowning sensation he had gotten from the girl’s Zanpakutou. The silent screaming wrath behind it had been near-terrifying, and the spirit itself was even more stifled than Sakanade had been.

 

                Kenpachi’s Zanpakutou had screamed in pain at being unheard and unnoticed and unbonded for so long.

 

                This girl’s Zanpakutou screamed in rage at being subdued and ignored and locked away, still connected to its wielder just enough to stave off the agony of a complete split between wielder and Zanpakutou, but far, _far_ too severed for the kind of soul balance Ichigo knew to look for, the balance that all wielders and their Zanpakutou should have.

 

                No wonder the girl had tired lines under her eyes, worn-down in a way that spoke of something far worse than a few sleepless nights.

 

                Honestly, forget Aizen; these Visored were going to be the death of him one day, if only from all the emotional trauma.

 

                “Ichigo?”

 

                Ichigo blinked, turning somewhat dazedly to Hirako who had a firm hand clenched in the fabric of the back of the girl’s jogging suit. It took him a moment to tune back into reality, opening his lungs again for a necessary gulp of air when he comprehended the fact that he had stopped breathing.

 

                His gaze flicked over the blonde girl again, and then at the colourful range of people standing several feet away, all guarded and watching him like a hawk.

 

                He meant to say ‘sorry, I’m fine’. What came out was, “This really sucks.”

 

                Hirako arched an eyebrow. “What does?”

 

                Ichigo strapped his sword back into place before scrubbing a hand over his face, swallowing a few times to get the clogged feeling out of his throat. Then he turned a flat look on Hirako. “You explain; I need some fresh air.”

 

                And without another word, he strode right back out, pausing only long enough to catch Inoue’s eye and let her know that she was welcome to come with him since she didn't really know anybody there. She looked relieved as she hurried out after him.

 

                “Are you okay, Kurosaki-kun?” Inoue enquired anxiously as they made their way out to the side of the abandoned road out front. The place was deserted for miles around, not a living soul in sight. Even the surrounding scenery looked wilted. It was actually kind of depressing.

 

                Ichigo sighed and squatted down by the roadside. Inoue promptly crouched down beside him, unmindful of the dirt under her shoes.

 

                “I’m fine,” He assured with a crooked smile. “Just... I think helping them out with their spirits is going to be even harder than I first thought.”

 

                Inoue cocked her head in a considering manner before smiling encouragingly at him. “I know you’ll be able to do it though, Kurosaki-kun. You can do anything you put your mind to! Remember how we saved Kuchiki-san?”

 

                Ichigo smirked with dry amusement. “I think a measly invasion would be easier than this.”

 

                “And,” Inoue persisted brightly. “Back when we were invading Soul Society, we all thought it was the hardest thing we’d ever have to do, right?”

 

                Ichigo huffed out a laugh, getting to his feet and giving Inoue a hand up. “Yeah, you have a point there.”

 

                Inoue’s smile widened, and Ichigo wished he had her optimism. He didn't know how she did it – or maintained it – when their lives were – literally – just one disaster after another.

 

                “Let’s go back inside,” Ichigo squared his shoulders. Honestly, he didn't want to touch the Visored’s spirits with a ten-foot pole, as heartless as that made him sound, but he’d given his word, and if Inoue could still keep going even after losing one of her spirits and getting into death-defying battles every other week, then Ichigo could damn well suck it up and face a few Hollowfied spirits.

 

* * *

 

                Ichigo’s favourite Visored turned out to be the childish Kuna Mashiro, for the simple reason that her Zanpakutou spirit, while near-transparent, was at least _there_.

 

                When Ichigo returned, the warehouse was filled with an astonished sort of silence, so he assumed that Hirako had filled them in on what Ichigo could do. Ichigo took that opportunity to scan the Visored more closely, and his gaze didn't stop until it landed on the green-haired girl perched on the back of a couch.

 

                “If you guys are doing this,” Ichigo had announced, jabbing a finger at the Visored he had chosen as he took in the fairy-like spirit about the size of his hand flitting above her head. “I’m working with her first.”

                “Why Mashiro?” The guy with the silver grey hair standing beside her instantly demanded, bristling protectively.

 

                Ichigo glanced at him. “Because she’s gonna be the easiest to work with. Hey there, what’s your name?”

 

                The last bit was directed at the spirit dressed in greens and browns with thin lines of white bone around her wrists and ankles. She swooped forward curiously, kicking up a wind around Ichigo as she looped dizzyingly around him several times.

 

                _:Hageshii... Yousei...:_ Came the musical whisper. _:Who... you...?:_

 

                “I’m Ichigo,” He introduced himself, glancing past the spirit at her wielder – Mashiro – who was all but vibrating in place, looking like she wanted to pounce on Ichigo. “Her name is Hageshii Yousei?”

 

                “...Holy shit,” The guy with the spiked afro sounded stunned. “He really _can_ see them.”

 

                That was all anyone got in before Mashiro leapt off the couch with a squeal, darted across the six feet of space that separated her and Ichigo, and without further ado, ignoring all boundaries of personal space, flung herself at him and wrapped her arms around him in a hyperactive hug.

 

                “Berry-tan can hear Shii-chan!” Mashiro cheered, practically strangling Ichigo as she somehow pulled off a kick-Shunpo that allowed her to swing around in the air without ever letting Ichigo go. “I can only hear her whisper, and not whenever I want either. The last time was almost ten years ago! You can help me fix that, right?”

 

                “Yeah,” Ichigo wheezed out, trying to remove Mashiro’s arms before she throttled him. “I’ll- do whatever- I can. But- I need you- to let me-”

 

                “Mashiro, for god’s sakes, let the kid go before he asphyxiates on us,” The grey-haired Visored from before was suddenly at their side, and with an ease born from long practice, pried Mashiro off of Ichigo in record time.

 

                Ichigo gasped for breath, making a face at the pout Mashiro was sending his way. He flicked a sour look at Hageshii Yousei when he heard the tinkling chime of the spirit’s giggles, soft and fleeting like bells on the wind. “Very funny.”

 

                The spirit winked a violet eye at him before fluttering forward to inspect Ichigo’s own Hollow. Zangetsu had bowed out of the meet-and-greet, preferring to stay in their inner world, but Hakuran had been poking around, and now he looked torn between swatting the fairy away with one hand and picking her up and flinging her across the room.

 

                “Hakuran, behave,” Ichigo ordered before the Hollow could follow through. Hakuran shot him a dirty look but resigned himself to suffering in silence as Hageshii Yousei pranced from his shoulder to his head and then back down to his other shoulder.

 

                _:Strange...:_ The spirit murmured, diaphanous wings brushing Hakuran’s nose. _:Hollow... strange... Ichi... strange...:_

 

                “Ichigo, not Ichi,” Ichigo corrected, already scowling.

 

                Hageshii Yousei smiled prettily at him. _:You Ichi... Me Shii-chan...:_

 

                “What is she saying?” Mashiro butted in eagerly, somehow wiggling out of the grey-haired Visored’s grip and latching onto Ichigo’s arm this time.

 

                Ichigo twitched. “Nothing important. She wants me to call her ‘Shii-chan’ in exchange for calling me ‘Ichi’. What a troublesome spirit.”

 

                Snorts and chuckles rippled across the room. Ichigo glared at all of them indiscriminately.

 

                “So? So? So?” Mashiro tugged at his arm. “Come on, Berry-tan, what do I have to do?”

 

                Ichigo could see the resemblance between Mashiro and her spirit. “Here’s step one – stop calling me ‘Berry-tan’.”

 

                Mashiro turned her nose up. “No! Berry-tan is Berry-tan!”

                ...And this was supposed to be a shining example of a centuries-old officer-of-the-law-turned-fugitive?

 

                Ichigo sighed, glanced at Hirako, realized that the smirking bastard wouldn't be coming to his aid anytime soon, and sighed again in defeat.

 

                “Can I at least put my stuff down first?” Ichigo grumbled.

 

                And he didn't even know all their names yet.

 

* * *

 

                Drawing Hageshii Yousei out and bringing down the barrier between the spirit and her wielder only took five hours of talking on Ichigo’s part and meditation on Mashiro’s part. Ichigo was thrilled, Mashiro was exhilarated, and Hageshii Yousei – in full colour and as solid as Hakuran and Zangetsu – wouldn't stop buzzing around them, squealing with joy so loudly that Ichigo was surprised no one else could hear her except the three of them.

 

                “Alright, stop jumping around!” Ichigo barked as Mashiro vaulted over the largest Visored – Hachi - and glomped the irritable grey-haired Visored – Kensei, her captain before they had been exiled, as it turned out – before launching herself onto Ichigo himself. “Oi! Off! And summon your Hollow mask!”

                “Are you certain we do not need to erect barriers?” The long-haired Visored – Rose – interjected, a concerned frown marring his aristocratic features even as his fingers seemed to flutter to the tune of something no one else could hear. Except Ichigo. He couldn't hear it very well but if he didn't concentrate too hard, he could swear that there was a stuttering, distant melody crooning in the background around Rose. Ichigo thought he might enjoy working with this man’s spirit as well.

 

                “Mm, it’ll be fine,” Ichigo assured confidently, fending off Hageshii Yousei with one hand as she tried to settle on top of his head. “Hageshii Yousei doesn't... well, I don’t get the sense that she’s the type to hold a grudge, and she seems pretty happy right now.”

 

                Turning to the sprite, he added sternly, “Don’t go nuts, okay? I'm talking to you _and_ your other side.”

 

                For a second, Hageshii Yousei paused, solemnity slipping in front of her typical giddiness, and her violet eyes shifted briefly to a Hollow lilac-on-black colour as she nodded, tiny hands waving at him to show that she hadn't crossed her fingers.

 

                Ichigo quirked a fond smile; he could reluctantly admit that this spirit was rather cute. “Alright then, let’s try this out.”

 

                He nodded at Mashiro who danced a few steps away before before bunching herself up and shouting, “Mashirooo Chaaange!”

 

                Ichigo, having already seen Mashiro throw on her mask before, knew that this time was different. Instead of the hornet mask instantly appearing on her face, it blurred and morphed into existence, slowly piecing together in a swirl of white.

 

                As the others tensed nervously around them, Ichigo kept an eye on Hageshii Yousei, who seemed to have settled into something calmer, and the circlets of bone around her wrists and ankles gradually spread upwards to cover her arms and legs. Violet eyes paled to lilac as her sclera deepened to black but that was where the changes stopped. Her gossamer wings continued sparkling as they flapped rapidly under the lights of the underground training area, and while her expression now held a sharper, harder edge of awareness to it, it was a stable change, and Ichigo could still see Hageshii Yousei’s innate mischievousness mixed into it. With a last joyful smile, the spirit flitted back to Mashiro’s side and melted away, merging seamlessly with her wielder.

 

                He looked back at Mashiro as the mask finally finished forming, but instead of the complete white it had once been, there were now shades of lime green around the mask’s eyeholes and on the antennae, and they could all see Mashiro’s own hazel eyes peeking through from behind it, no longer just the black holes that they’d been before.

 

                Nobody said anything for a long hushed minute. Even Mashiro stayed uncharacteristically still, hands wandering over her mask as Orihime tentatively stepped forward with a pocket mirror for her. The Visored peered into it, eyes widening as her fingers trailed lightly over the new additions to her mask, fluttering almost hesitantly over them as if she was afraid that they’d disappear.

 

                Ichigo glanced around at the others’ shocked faces before rolling his eyes and stepping forward. “Mashiro, how do you feel?”

 

                Mashiro blinked. “ **I-** ” She coughed when her speech came out much more double-toned than when she had talked while wearing her old Hollow mask, her Hollowfied spirit’s slightly rougher but still higher-pitched voice now markedly layered on top of hers. “ **I’m fine. ...I can feel Shii-chan! Kensei, I can feel her again way better now!** ”

 

                And with that, Mashiro exploded into action once more, leaping at Kensei and giving the dazed man a hug before launching herself at Hachi next, still babbling excitedly at them while holding a conversation with her spirit at the same time. One blink later and Ichigo found himself accosted once more, having the life shaken out of him as Mashiro squeezed him like some teddy bear, thanking him and chattering a mile a minute about everything under the sun.

 

                “Okay, okay, I get it, you’re real happy,” Ichigo sighed, struggling to pry Mashiro off before shooting a grateful look at Kensei when the Visored shook his head and moved forward to give him a hand. “Now get off; we have to test something before your mask disappears and you keel over.”

                “Oh don’t worry about that,” Kensei grumbled as he wrangled Mashiro away from Ichigo. “The first time she summoned her mask, she lasted fifteen hours with it.”

 

                Ichigo stared. “She can keep her Hollow mask on for _fifteen hours_? I can barely last a minute right now!”

 

“Mashiro’s an exception,” Hirako drawled, coming forward to stand beside them. “And the fifteen hours is only when she’s not in battle. The rest of us started off at a few seconds each and built up from there, and our longest time is only three minutes when we’re fightin’, _includin’_ Mashiro. Three minutes in a century. Ya’ve had your Hollow for a few weeks and you’re already up ta a minute; you're makin’ the rest of us look bad so don’t complain.”

 

Ichigo scowled on reflex. Technically, he had only managed an entire minute once but at least he was getting there. Still, he couldn't quite wrap his mind around _three minutes in a century_. That was just... He’d go insane if it took him an entire century to manage a mere three minutes.

 

“Still,” Ichigo continued when Mashiro finally stopped jumping on people. “I want to see if anything’s different. Mashiro, go destroy something.

 

“And now would be a good time for that barrier,” He added as the green-haired Visored scampered off.

 

“You want the barrier _now_?” Lisa asked, frowning. “She seems fine.”

 

Ichigo nodded. “Yeah, but the first time I tried Shunpo when I had my mask on, I went too fast and I almost killed myself crashing into a tree. Now that Mashiro’s in sync with her Hollow, her attacks will probably be even stronger, and I don’t want to get caught in the backlash when she kicks something.”

 

Some skepticism remained but Hachi was willing enough to execute a simple Kidou spell in front of them as insurance.

 

“Okay, go ahead!” Ichigo called as soon as the Kidou barrier had been erected, glowing a pale blue around them.

 

Even with the mask on, Ichigo could sense Mashiro’s grin, and without further ado, the Visored hurtled into the air, the jump taking her almost as high as the ceiling, and as she began to descend again, she tucked herself in, flipped once, twice, three times, extended a leg, and let gravity do the rest.

 

“MASHIROOO KIIICK!!”

 

KA-BOOM!!

 

Ichigo only had time to think ‘ _oh crap_ ’ before he grabbed Inoue and tucked her behind him as a quarter of the training grounds detonated under the force of Mashiro’s kick, sending pieces of rock everywhere as an earthquake rolled beneath their feet, shaking the very foundations of the room they were standing in. A crack split the barrier that Hachi had raised, and a few pieces of rubble flew through it even as the large Visored began repairing it as fast as he could.

 

Ichigo unsheathed his blade in the blink of an eye, cutting in half a large jagged boulder coming their way before Inoue summoned her spirits and hastily assembled her own shield around the two of them. All around, the other Visored who had a free hand quickly began defending themselves from the oncoming rock-storm as they fought for balance upon the roiling earth underneath them.

 

The violent tremors seemed to go on forever even as the sandy dirt that had been kicked up started settling, and by the time everything came to a standstill and they could see again, Hachi’s barrier was tattered around the edges, Inoue’s shield flickered before dissolving, Hiyori and Rose had fallen over, Love and Lisa were wiping their glasses, Hirako, Kensei, and Hachi who had all taken the brunt of the recoil were covered in a fine layer of dust, and Mashiro could be spotted in the middle of a crater that extended downwards by at least thirty feet.

 

She was also curled up and snoring away softly, Hollow mask nowhere to be found.

 

“So,” Ichigo said mildly as he stepped away from Inoue and cautiously tapped the ground with one foot to make sure it wouldn't cave underneath them. “Now would be a bad time to say ‘I told you so’, huh?”

 

Hirako reached back and cuffed him over the head. “Shut up.”

 

* * *

 

                Half an hour and a shower each later, Ichigo was in the kitchen with Hirako cooking again as the others took their time cleaning themselves up. Normally, it would be Rose who cooked since he was apparently the best at it but Hirako had told him that the man could literally spend hours in the shower, especially after a workout (“We’d grow old waitin’ for him. Best ta just cook dinner ourselves.”).

 

                Ichigo made a face at the pot of bubbling stew in front of him as the sound of Love’s voice booming out a jaunty but very off-key song reached his ears from somewhere in the warehouse. Elsewhere, Kensei could be heard pounding on a door and yelling at Rose to hurry the hell up in the shower since Lisa and Hachi had hogged the other two, and Hiyori was screeching at Kensei to shut the hell up before he woke the dead. “Jeez, are they always like this?”

 

                Hirako snickered but the look he levelled Ichigo was uncomfortably intense. “Nah, they aren’t. They can be as loud as they are now but not exactly like this. Happiest I’ve seen ’em in a century.”

 

                Ichigo stared dubiously at the blond. “This is _happy_?”

 

                Hirako snorted and turned back to the pasta he was making. “Ya really don’t understand the crazy shit ya’ve pulled, do ya?” The man reached for a wooden spoon to stir the pasta, not looking up again. “Ichigo, we – all of us Visored – we’d given up on bein’ able ta talk ta our spirits properly ever again. Ya think we’d be as pissed as we are, nurse a grudge the size of Soul Society for as long as we have, against one man just ’cause he unlocked the darkest part of our souls and made them into living manifestations? Hell no; we could've lived with that, we _are_ living with that. We could've even eventually overlooked the whole part where he got us condemned and exiled; an extended vacation in the Human World relieves us of a crapload o’ paperwork, ya know.”

 

Hirako’s piano hands stilled though his gaze didn't waver from the food. “But the one thing we couldn't forgive him for was cuttin’ us off from our Zanpakutou spirits. That bastard cut us off from our _souls_ , not completely but enough that it sometimes feels like we might as well have lost a chunk of ourselves, like we might be better off dead. The Gotei 13 and Central 46 screwed us over as much as Aizen did, not even givin’ us the courtesy of launchin’ a proper investigation after all the years of loyal service we’ve sweated and bled for them. But it was Aizen who fucked with our souls ta the point where we couldn't even hear them anymore, and that’s not somethin’ we can ever forgive.

 

“But you,” And this time, Hirako did look at him, head tilting to one side as the man appraised Ichigo with thoughtful, eagle-eyed regard. “Ya’ve given us a way ta get them back. Ya’ve already done it with Mashiro. Do ya have _any_ _idea_ how much that means ta us?”

 

Ichigo’s ears burned with embarrassment, and he quickly turned back to the soup, pretending that it needed all of his attention. In his opinion, the whole him-helping-them thing wasn't that big a deal. After all, he would be getting spars in return, so really, it was more of a you-help-me-I’ll-help-you kind of arrangement. Besides, what else was he supposed to do? Sakanade had been bad enough, Hiyori’s spirit even worse. It would be inhumane not to lend a hand when he could.

 

“Of course,” Hirako continued, clearly taking pity on him by moving on. “That doesn't mean we’re not gonna kick Aizen’s ass when the time comes. Just ’cause we _could_ forgive ’im for gettin’ us Hollowfied and exiled doesn't mean we _have_. We owe ’im some payback at the very least.”

 

Ichigo smirked a little at this, shoulders relaxing. “Well, if you take care of him, maybe I won’t have to do anything after all.”

 

He felt Hirako’s eyes on him again. “Don’t ya want a shot at him?”

 

Ichigo scoffed, craning his head around to raise an incredulous eyebrow at the older Visored. “You realize I don’t even really know the guy, right? I met him that one time just as he was leaving. Sure, he almost killed a whole bunch of us on his way out, but that wasn't exactly anything new for me or my friends seeing as practically all of Seireitei had been actively trying to kill us just two minutes before Aizen showed his cards. So honestly, it isn’t as if _I_ have some personal vendetta against him.”

 

He paused to lower the temperature currently heating the soup. “Of course, if any of my friends are pulled into this mess, then yeah, I’ll have to fight too. I probably will in the end, the way things are going. But it’s not like I actually _want_ to go to war. I'm only sixteen years old, you know, and joining the army’s never been one of my career choices.”

 

Hirako hummed noncommittally, idly tossing some pepper into the pasta sauce. “Well, can’t fault ya for that logic. ...Ya’ve crossed blades with Aizen though, even if it was just once. Did ya pick up anythin’ from his spirit?”

 

Ichigo halted his movements, memory flying back to the first time he had come face to face with the traitor. One corner of his mouth involuntarily tipped downwards, and he busied himself with stirring the soup again. “...I didn't see Kyouka Suigetsu. It must've been in Aizen’s inner world at the time.”

 

Hirako grunted, eyeing Ichigo speculatively as he reached for the olive oil. “Not what I asked, Ichigo.”

 

Ichigo shrugged as he turned off the fire altogether. “Madness, I suppose. And hunger, for power. Arrogance, self-righteousness, a cunning heart, a ruthless logic to every one of his actions. ...If you want my opinion though, I’d say Aizen’s an idiot. The Hogyoku ruined the man he used to be.”

 

And without another word, Ichigo picked up the pot of soup and padded out of the kitchen to the dining room where Inoue had already set out all the cutlery and tableware.

 

He thought of the Visored’s desire for revenge (and rightfully so), and the torment that Aizen had put Rukia through with his manipulations in the background, and the danger and violence that the madman had directly and indirectly placed Ichigo and his friends in time and time again.

 

Ichigo thought of all that, and he held his tongue and didn't say that he had also felt a crippling amount of loneliness emanating from Aizen’s Zanpakutou.

 

                In the end, what did it matter? He’d done his best to put it out of his mind up until this point. After all, loneliness was no excuse for all the shit Aizen had pulled.

 

                So it didn’t matter, not really. All it meant was that Ichigo just might have a better understanding of Aizen than pretty much everyone else.

 

                And honestly, that wasn’t something worth rejoicing about _at all_.

 

 

**Please leave a review on your way out.**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hageshii Yousei - Tempestuous Sprite


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This will be the last chapter posted for a while. Like I said in the first chapter, I only have these five written so enjoy these chapters (and my other fics) in the meantime.

 

                “Aa, don’t worry, they serve good food here. ...Mm-hm, it’s a real... learning experience, you could say. ...Yeah, you too. Don’t let Goat-Face do anything too crazy, and remember to do your homework. ...Uh-huh, tell Karin not to stay up too late. ...Love you too; ’night.”

 

                Ichigo released his breath in a whoosh as he hung up, a lingering smile on his lips after talking to Yuzu. Karin was over at a friend’s house doing a project and would be staying the night so Ichgo would have to talk to her tomorrow.

 

                He’d been at the Visored’s warehouse for four days now, and the second and third days had been spent working with Hachi, whose spirit had been more difficult to get through to than Mashiro’s but still – as it had turned out – easier than everyone else’s.

 

                After Hachi’s spirit – who was fairly mellow and preferred staying in the background; it reminded Ichigo of Tessai’s spirit – had been unlocked and successfully merged with its Hollow side, Ichigo had moved on to Rose’s, and that had been where the problems had started.

 

                The first time Ichigo had coaxed Kinshara out (a figure decked in golden armour, all sharp edges and gleaming metal with an intricate faintly flower-patterned facemask that covered everything but a pair of contrasting silver eyes, topped with a head of long sunshine hair that – upon closer observation – were actually strands of exceedingly thin and deceptively delicate whips, and the disjointed rhythm of a random melody filled the air around it), the spirit had had a wild, feral look in its eyes, and before Ichigo could dodge or call for Rose to take off his Hollow mask, Kinshara’s hair had extended and shot towards him with deadly intent.

 

                Ichigo had managed to block most of the strands with his Zanpakutou in an ear-splitting screech of metal but three of the whips had slipped past his guard and scored a gouge in his shoulder, tearing through Ichigo’s Shihakushou and shocking everyone else in the room.

 

                Rose had all but ripped his mask from his face, a flash of horror flitting across his features as he and the others had – for the first time – truly understood just how dangerous having Ichigo play negotiator for them and their spirits actually was. Spirits couldn't touch other living beings, or each other if one didn't want another to do so, but they _could_ touch Ichigo, and it wasn't as if _he_ could make himself intangible. Mashiro and Hachi’s respective spirits were the kindest of the lot, not the type to lash out or stew in anger and hatred until their resentment had decayed into malevolence.

 

                Rose had been disinclined to try again but Ichigo had insisted, slapping a bandage on the wound and letting Hakuran’s faster healing abilities do the rest.

 

                “I already knew the consequences,” Ichigo had explained with a careless shrug. “Sakanade would've ripped my head off that first time if she had been corporeal.”

 

                This had set off another round of appalled why-didn't-you-tell-me-you-idiot diatribe from Hirako but Ichigo had eventually managed to get them all back on track.

 

                The second through twenty-sixth times had seen no improvement whatsoever but at least Ichigo had been ready, and Hakuran had expertly deflected all of the attacks, only stopping short of slashing at Kinshara itself.

 

                By the time evening had rolled around, Rose had been too tired to keep summoning his mask, especially since after the fifteenth time, the Visored’s inner Hollow had started attacking Rose in his inner world, so they had left it at that for the day. Rose had seemed disheartened but Inoue – thank god for her – had reminded him earnestly that they had only tried for one day and that it was far too early to give up.

 

                “Your sister?”

 

                Ichigo turned, unsurprised to see Hirako strolling towards him. He’d sensed the Visored come outside at the tail-end of his conversation with his sister. “Yeah, Yuzu. She’s worried I'm not getting enough to eat.”

 

                Hirako smirked a little, coming to a stop beside him and tipping his head back to scan the star-studded sky. “Yeah? She thinks we’re servin’ ya thin gruel made of rat intestines or somethin’?”

 

                Ichigo rolled his eyes as he tucked his cell phone away. “You’re full of shit, Hirako. Your jokes aren’t funny.”

 

                “I beg ta differ,” Hirako disagreed with a mocking indignant air. “I am _very_ funny. It just takes a more sophisticated wit than yours ta understand my sense of humour.”

 

                Ichigo snorted. “Then I’ll stick with my simple wit, thanks. I don’t _want_ to understand your humour.”

 

                He paused, glancing up. He knew Hirako had been practicing by himself on the side even while waiting for Ichigo to get around to him, but Ichigo didn't think the blond would need much more help in the end. Like now for instance, when Hirako was relaxed, Sakanade...

 

                _:Get this overgrown furball off me!:_ Hakuran yowled as Sakanade pounced on the Hollow, a devious smirk that reminded Ichigo of her wielder tilting her lips.

 

                ...came out to play.

 

                Ichigo quirked a smile of his own but he did have some obligation to defend his own spirits so he elbowed Hirako in the ribs and jerked his head at the two scuffling spirits. “Tell Sakanade to knock it off. She’s using Hakuran as a yarn ball.”

 

                Hirako barked out a laugh but he stilled and his gaze turned inward. Several seconds later, Sakanade huffed in annoyance and disappeared, and Hirako flinched minutely, a focused frown forming on his face as his eyes teetered between brown and his Hollow form’s grey-on-black.

 

                Ichigo kept half an eye on him but Hirako was as stubborn as they came, and Sakanade didn't seem quite as pissed anymore.

 

                _:Hey King,:_ Hakuran floated over, still looking disgruntled. _:Ya’ve been spendin’ all this time tryin’ ta fix_ their _problems; how ’bout leavin’ some time for us? We haven’t trained properly in four days! Even your girlfriend’s been makin’ progress now that her spirit’s been fixed.:_

 

                “She’s not my girlfriend,” Ichigo kicked half-heartedly at his Hollow who easily evaded it. “But yeah, I guess we should get back to training again. I’ll wake up earlier tomorrow. ...I’ve been thinking though – you know how Hollows can open Gargantas? Can you do that?”

 

                Hakuran blinked, cocking his head in consideration. _:Never thought ta try. I’ll give it a go tomorrow.:_ He grinned slyly. _:We could go straight ta Hueco Mundo ta kick Aizen’s ass!:_

 

                “We’re not ready,” Ichigo countered, thinking back to Tousen who hadn't even deigned to look at Ichigo after blasting a hole through his side. And he thought of Grimmjow whose sword had thrummed with exhilaration against Zangetsu, eager for a fight but not...

 

                Ichigo frowned up at the sky. To be honest, if he thought about it, that battle had been a bit strange. He hadn't gotten the feeling of any particular hatred or anger from Grimmjow, nothing personal directed at Ichigo at all. The Espada had just been looking for a fight, kind of like Kenpachi, his pride demanding nothing less than to finish the battle with Ichigo right up until the very end even after Ichigo had managed to inflict that near-critical injury to his back.

 

                So what would a person like that be doing working under Aizen of all people? From what Ichigo had gathered, Grimmjow liked power but he wasn't the sort to gain it through someone else instead of working for it himself so it wasn't as if Aizen could promise him that in exchange for bowing down to the madman.

 

                Ichigo sighed. Well, it didn't matter in the end. When – or if – they met again, and Grimmjow tried to kill him (again), then Ichigo would just have to defeat the Espada (again... well, almost).

 

                He glanced back at Hirako who, while no longer partially meditating, still looked a bit out of it and was wincing from a headache, so Ichigo prodded the Visored none too gently into moving, urging him towards the warehouse again. “Come on; it’s time for old folk like you to get to bed.”  


                Apparently, Hirako wasn't so out of it to not retaliate for that smart-aleck remark, and a second later, Ichigo had been flipped onto his back with a heavy thud.

 

                “Don’t call me old, brat,” The older Visored retorted with a smirk before sauntering away, whistling a merry tune.

 

                As Hakuran cackled at his expense, Ichigo scowled after Hirako’s retreating back.

 

****

* * *

 

 

                “I think he should take it off now!” Love hollered from somewhere on Ichigo’s far left.

 

                “He’s been taking it on and off for half the day and it hasn’t improved anything!” Ichigo shouted back as he sprinted sideways across the vertical surface of one of the larger mini cliff faces. “I can handle it!”

 

                What he was currently handling – barely – was the consecutive attacks pursuing him, the golden whips (that only he could see) tearing into the rock face and leaving a trail of destruction in their wake (that everyone could see). Ichigo Shunpoed onwards, not daring to stop and risk getting sliced in half.

 

                At first, like yesterday, they had started with Rose summoning his mask, Ichigo trying to talk to Kinshara, and then Rose taking _off_ his mask a few seconds later when the spirit began attacking immediately. They had done that for the past _eight hours_ , and it had really started to annoy.

 

                So Ichigo had suggested trying something different; they weren’t getting anywhere if Ichigo only had three seconds to get a few words in edgewise so perhaps having Rose keep his mask on for longer despite the danger would see some positive results.

 

                There had been a few arguments over that method but they had nothing on Ichigo when it came to tenacity, and in the end, they’d capitulated.

 

                Which brought them to the present, in which Ichigo was running for his life while Hachi held an out-of-control Rose in a Kidou barrier, and the others hovered on the side, concerned and unable to give assistance.

 

                _If nothing else_ , Ichigo thought with ironic humour. _At least I’m developing my skill in Shunpo and the art of dodging enemies._

 

                “His inner Hollow’s going nuts!” Lisa yelled from the top of another boulder several dozen feet away where she was watching Rose crash against the prison keeping him confined. “If you're gonna do anything, Kurosaki, now’s the time!”

 

                Ichigo gritted his teeth, twisting between four whips before flipping upright again and scooting off once more. He hated how much the Visored seemed to think that Ichigo knew exactly what he was doing, that this was all part of a Plan that he had devised before coming to them. He wasn't Urahara, enough said. His strategizing skills were better, courtesy of Benihime, but mostly only when in battle. He wasn't the sort to think a hundred steps ahead and have backup plans for backup plans. His skills lay in improvisation, going with his gut, thinking on his feet, and toughing things out until the very end.

 

                But he supposed he had brought this on himself, walking in here with his ability for seeing and talking to spirits. He was unique in that he had gotten his own inner Hollow to accept him and vice versa without the additional continual grapple for control, and the Visored had taken that as a sign that Ichigo was some sort of natural expert on dealing with them.

 

                They couldn't be further from the truth.

 

                Still, he had to do _something_ ; running away wasn't going to solve anything, and he’d just end up doing the same thing again tomorrow. Stamina training was all well and good but he had better things to do with his time.

 

                He yelped when a golden whip sheared off a few strands of his hair, narrowly missing his ear as the distant staccato hum of music screeched an octave higher out of spite, and the frustration that had been rising inside him since yesterday spiked to a breaking point.

 

                That was _it_.

 

                Ichigo flashed past another crop of rocks before coming to an abrupt stop on the ground and whirling around, feet planted firmly in place even as he faced the whips that were hurtling in his direction at a fearsome speed head-on.

 

                _:KING!:_ Hakuran bellowed, lurching forward, sword in hand.

 

                Ichigo threw one arm out to stall his Hollow. Simultaneously, _recklessly_ , he slammed the tip of his blade into the rocky floor, leaving him wide open.

 

                “THAT’S E _NOUGH_!” Ichigo roared, mustering every last drop of brash courage bolstered solely by heart-racing adrenaline as he stood his ground. He glared straight back at the oncoming whips glinting lethally under the lights. “What you’re feeling right now – is that what you want to feel for the rest of your life?! Because that’s exactly what’s gonna happen if you DON’T _STOP **NOW**_.”

 

                Silence.

 

                Only the sound of Ichigo’s breaths rushing harshly in and out of his lungs broke the sudden ringing hush. The Visored were quiet, Rose had frozen in place, even the music had died down, and the whistle of the golden whips that had been headed his way could no longer be heard.

 

                Because the whips themselves had stopped.

 

                A mere two inches, if that, from his neck.

 

                A muscle in Ichigo’s jaw jumped from the strain of ignoring the instinctive urge to back away but he only swallowed hard and stared past the whips to where Kinshara was hovering, silver eyes wide and unreadable.

 

                “That’s better,” Ichigo managed as steadily as he could. Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted Rose slumping to the ground. “Now come on, if you can chase me around the training grounds, you can talk. So use your words and stop pitching a tantrum like a child.”

 

                His breath hitched briefly in his throat when the whips snaked forward and curled around his neck in a deceptively gentle grasp like a hangman’s noose. Oh fuck, there was no way he could pull a Houdini and escape from this if Kinshara decided to go in for the kill.

 

                But.

 

                Trust – give some, get some back. Ichigo would have to hang on to that and hope that Kinshara subscribed to that same concept.

 

                Beside him, Hakuran shifted, and Ichigo knew he’d be getting an earful from both his spirits if – _when_ – he got out of this.

 

                A breathy sigh of a disjunct harmony stirred into existence once more like a breeze picking up, and an unfamiliar raspy tenor finally blended in, fitting nicely against the musical backdrop despite its hoarse quality.

 

                _:You are a mere child; why should I listen to you?:_

 

                Ichigo automatically bristled. That condescending tone was even worse than Benihime’s. “Hey, at this point, I’m your only hope for getting in touch with your wielder again so don’t call me a child, bastard-”

 

                He cut himself off with a cough as the band around his throat tightened minutely, biting into his skin in evident warning.

 

                _:Mind your tongue; you shall not speak to me like that, little boy.:_

                Well fuck that. Ichigo had never taken threats lying down.

 

                “Go screw yourself!” Ichigo fired back, unmindful of the liquid trickling down the side of his neck and seeping into his clothing. “You don’t get to make demands with the way you've been acting these past two days!”

 

                He hissed as the whip constricted even further and more blood ran. Behind him, he heard a rustle of clothing and the sound of footsteps drawing a few steps closer before stopping again.

 

                “Ichigo,” Hirako’s voice sounded terse, the question clear even though it went unsaid.

 

                “I'm fine,” Ichigo called back shortly.

 

                _:You are certainly not fine, boy,:_ Kinshara interjected with cold amusement. _:I could kill you quite easily right now and it would be no loss.:_

 

                “Hm,” Ichigo grunted, mouth twisting as he considered the amount of blood running down his neck. “Are you sure? Because I really don’t think you can. You're still too weak. With how hard you're squeezing right now? I shouldn't even be able to talk anymore.”

 

                The background music ratcheted up in volume before dying down again, the fury near-palpable now. _:Do not presume your superiority in this situation, boy!:_

 

                “Oh shut up!” Ichigo snapped, patience at an end. “I'm not presuming anything! I'm just here to help, and if you'll _let me_ , we can get with the program and start _doing_ something about your situation! Got me?!”

 

                Kinshara hissed, rage glowing in his eyes. _:And who says I wish to fix anything? My wielder was the one who started this; he was the one who cut me off! It is his fault-:_

 

                “Hey!” Ichigo’s voice rode over the spirit’s with uncompromising intensity. “Don’t go laying all the blame at his feet!” He glanced at the other Visored as best he could without actually turning his neck. “And the rest of you spirits might as well pay attention too! I know you can hear me if you try so listen the hell up! From what I understand, your wielders have had a heap of shit to deal with ever since Aizen screwed them over a century ago! They handled their Hollowfication the best they fucking could, the _only_ way they thought they could, so cut them some fucking slack! It’s not like they _wanted_ to shut you out, you know! I'm not excusing the way they went about it but they didn't _purposefully_ do it the way they did just for shits and giggles! I can’t say I completely understand what being locked away for a century is like but I know it must've sucked! Your wielders are trying to fix that now, _I’m_ trying to help them fix that now, and the least you can do is lend a hand and pull your own damn weight!”

 

                Ichigo didn't stop there. Blood pounding in his ears, he rounded back on Kinshara, baring his teeth in a furious scowl. “You're angry at Rose? Fine, be angry! Hell, I’d be too! You got the short end of the stick when the Hollow part of you was shunted to the back and locked up, but newsflash, you arrogant dick: life’s not fair! All you can do is make the best of any shitty situation because you know what? No matter how fucked up things seem, _it can always get worse_. That’s how the universe works! And you know how _this_ situation can get worse? By you continuing to pitch your epic fit of doom, which will only end with Rose refusing to properly merge with the inner Hollow part of you, and then you’ll both be unhappy for the rest of your lives! Is that what you want?!”

 

                Ichigo wheezed for breath by the end of his tirade, mostly because he was honestly running out of air since Kinshara had been wringing his neck harder and harder for the past minute. The spirit’s only saving grace was the fact that Ichigo was fairly certain that it had no idea that its grip had been spasming erratically. From what he could see of the spirit’s eyes, Kinshara seemed to have been made speechless with shock and a touch of incredulity, most likely at Ichigo’s audacity to shout at the spirit with a noose around his neck. Even the music in the background had quieted to a faint unsteady buzz.

 

                Still, Ichigo met the spirit’s gaze defiantly. He’d never been one to back down, and he wasn't about to start now. He’d said his piece and he wasn't going to retract a single word. Kinshara could take it or leave it.

 

                Silver eyes flashed, and for a second, Ichigo was certain that the spirit was going to pick him up by the throat and fling him across the room, probably breaking his neck in the process or at least doling out some serious damage to his person, but to Ichigo’s semi-surprise, the music in the air rose to a soft tired hymn that trailed off into a whisper, and without further ado, the whip around his neck loosened before slowly gliding away.

 

                Ichigo sucked in a much-needed gulp of oxygen, keeping his eyes on Kinshara as the spirit cocked his head and spoke once more, each word measured. _:...Roujuurou is in no shape to try again today; summon me again tomorrow. I will... cooperate and do my best to keep my Hollow side in the right frame of mind. However, after this issue is resolved, I reserve the right to confront my wielder as I see fit. Do we have an accord, Speaker?:_

 

                Ichigo nodded, stifling a sigh of relief. “Yeah, that sounds fine. Whatever problems you and Rose need to hash out, that’s none of my business.”

 

                Kinshara studied him for a minute longer with an eerie, unblinking gaze before nodding curtly and finally shimmering out of existence.

 

                Ichigo turned in time to see Rose’s Hollow mask shred away, the man himself already unconscious. With a quiet groan, he rocked back on his heels before dropping onto his ass, more than ready to collapse in bed and sleep the rest of the day away.

 

                _:You. Fucking. Idiot.:_ Hakuran only had time to say before Hirako was suddenly by his side, all but shaking Ichigo by the shoulders.

 

                “Are ya _crazy_?!” The Visored leader barked, roughly tilting Ichigo’s head back to check his neck wound. “It was chokin’ ya, and ya decided that it would be a good time ta give it a _dressin’-down_? What the hell am I supposed ta tell your father and Kisuke if ya _die_ on my watch?! And from invisible strangulation no less!”

 

                “I was fine!” Ichigo dismissed (even though he sort of hadn't been). “It turned out alright. Kinshara’s agreed to cooperate tomorrow.”

 

                “Fine my ass,” Hirako muttered heatedly as one of his hands glowed green and began knitting Ichigo’s injury together. “You’re a reckless kid with all the self-preservation instincts of a stoned lemming. I don’t know why I'm surprised anymore; ya invaded Soul Society with nothin’ but a sword, a cat, and a bunch of other kids taggin’ along, and out of all the spirits out there, ya decided ta make nice with _Benihime_. If anythin’, I shoulda predicted your pissin’ contest with Kinshara.”

 

                “Kinshara gave in in the end,” Ichigo sulked, poking inquisitively at his neck when the green light faded and Hirako withdrew, only to have his hand swatted away by the visibly frazzled blond. “And there’s nothing wrong with Benihime. She’s a bit bossy, and she wipes the floor with my ass during training, but otherwise, she can be playful, and she’s fun to be around.”

 

                Hirako shook his head and sighed. “That’s my whole point right there. There is somethin’ _wrong_ with ya. _Nobody_ thinks it’s fun ta be around Benihime. More suitable adjectives would be ‘terrifyin’’ at worst and ‘stressful’ at best. She can be vicious. Silently ruthless.”

 

                Ichigo huffed. “How would you know? You've never even met her!”

 

                “But I’ve met Kisuke,” Hirako countered, giving Ichigo a hand up. “And I knew ’im back when he hadn't made captain yet and was still part of the Onmitsukidou. Hell, I knew him back when he was just a titchy fresh graduate from the Academy, and that was the time when he was most like his Zanpakutou spirit because he wasn't puttin’ on a show for the world. He wasn't _always_ like he is now, ya know.”

 

                Ichigo blinked at this. An Urahara who didn't smile and puppet-master his way through pretty much everything was something he could barely imagine.

 

                “Kurosaki, you alright?” Lisa leapt down to join them, frowning per usual as she scowled at him from behind her glasses. But there was a – new – glimmer of grudging respect in her eyes that hadn't been there before, and Ichigo wondered what had put it there.

 

                “I’m fine,” Ichigo repeated with a nod, stretching his arms above his head and taking care not to disturb the injury at his neck that was just scabbing over. He flicked a glance up to where Hakuran was glaring murder at him. Behind him, Zangetsu had appeared and didn't look all that pleased either. “But if you’ll excuse me, I think I'm gonna go spend a few hours in my room. Hakuran and Zangetsu look like they want to kill me.”

 

                Twin snorts came from both Hirako and Lisa, and the blond Visored waved him off. “Serves ya right; oi, Zangetsu, Hakuran, give ’im hell.”

 

                Ichigo squawked in protest but Hakuran grinned, wide and wicked. _:I take it back, King; I like this guy after all.:_

 

* * *

 

 

                Another week and a half passed, and while Rose, Love, and Lisa’s spirits were apparently still quarrelling with their wielders in their respective inner worlds, Ichigo could proudly tick them off his list.

 

                Tengumaru (a large man crossed with some sort of goblin-like demon) hadn't posed much of a problem after Kinshara. The spirit had destroyed a few dozen boulders but either he had taken Ichigo’s previous speech to heart or he was just naturally more easygoing because his Hollow side had been less problematic to talk around than Kinshara’s.

 

                Then there had been Haguro Tonbo, a female spirit sporting expansive dragonfly wings and a flowing aquamarine dress coupled with a white scarf around her neck and short-cropped black hair, and whose personality had been just as bullheaded as her wielder’s, so that had taken a couple of days as well. She never spoke either, though by the end, Ichigo suspected that that was simply because Haguro Tonbo wasn't a very talkative spirit to begin with.

 

                In between though, Ichigo would train, sparring against any Visored who was free at the time (and while they had confessed to practically being bored out of their minds before Ichigo had come along, they now had meditation and talk-some-shit-out sessions – as Love had dubbed them – with their spirits to work on, which took almost every spare hour they had).

 

                He fought against Inoue too, which worked out better than he had thought it would. He had figured that he’d feel a bit guilty for attacking the healer, and Inoue would probably try to hold back, but after the first few fumbling exchanges, they had – somehow – come to a silent agreement that they _needed_ to take each other seriously, and with only a long look between them, Ichigo had just known that it would be alright. So long as he kept Shunpo out of it, they had managed to get in quite a few decent blows against one another, and by the end of their first training session together, neither of them had been holding back.

 

Most of the time though, Inoue would train with Hachi, her spirits against his Kidou, and Ichigo would get his butt kicked by Hirako.

 

                And on the side, he and Hakuran would work on working with their Hollow powers and opening a Garganta. Ichigo hadn't told anyone about the attempts yet, wanting to be able to actually do it before he showed the other Visored something they might all be able to do one day. So far, Ichigo had figured out that he and Hakuran had to merge to get anything close to a Garganta, and they’d only succeeded in warping the air in front of them, nothing more.

 

                “Oi, Kurosaki!” Came Kensei’s voice from above. “Phone call!”

 

                “ **Coming!** ” Ichigo hollered back before pulling off his Hollow mask. He could hold it for a full two minutes now.

 

                Easily hauled himself back up onto ground level, he swiftly swiped the phone that Kensei chucked at him from across the room out of the air, putting it to his ear as he kicked the trapdoor shut behind him. “Yeah?”

 

                _“Ah, Kurosaki-san; it’s Urahara.”_

 

                “Hey, what’s up?” Ichigo greeted, not having heard from the shopkeeper since he had arrived at the Visored’s place. “How’s Hime doing?”

 

                Urahara released a mournful sigh, and Ichigo gleaned that there was nothing severely wrong if the man could still act like an idiot. _“You skip right over me and ask about Benihime instead? How positively cruel!”_

 

                Ichigo rolled his eyes as he wandered into the kitchen to get a snack and some water. “She’s less troublesome to deal with than you are.”

 

                _“Is she?”_ Urahara mused in an almost mystified tone. _“Well, she’s doing fine, if a bit... moody, you could say. She seems to want to visit you but she denies it every time I ask her.”_

 

                “Oh, we talked about it,” Ichigo explained, retrieving a yogurt from the fridge and meandering back out into the sitting area where all the Visored and Inoue were assembled. “And we figured it would be best if she stayed in Karakura to keep an eye on things just in case the shit hits the fan. Again. I mean that town is like a magnet for trouble. Every time I turn around these days, _something’s_ happened.”

 

                A chuckle echoed down the line. _“I'm afraid the magnet would actually be you, Kurosaki-san, not the town itself.”_

 

                Ichigo scowled, taking a seat in one of the empty armchairs. “Hey, I'm getting better at suppressing my reiatsu. Even Hirako says so, and he’s like some demon from hell when he’s training me.”

 

                Several feet away, Hirako glanced up briefly from the book he was reading with an unrepentantly gleeful smirk on his face. Ichigo glowered back at him.

 

                “Now I'm guessing you didn't call just to chat,” Ichigo continued on a more serious note. “Did something happen?”

 

                _“Nothing in particular,”_ The ‘yet’ went unvoiced but not unheard. _“However, Hitsugaya-taichou and a few others have come by to enquire after your whereabouts. I believe Kuchiki-san and Abarai-san have been vague about your training trip with the Visored, only specifying that you have gone elsewhere for extra training, but it is simply a matter of time before other Shinigami attempt to track you down themselves if you do not return soon. Are you nearly finished getting through to the other Visored’s inner Hollows?”_

 

                Ichigo scanned the others, most of them doing a good job at pretending not to be eavesdropping. He inwardly rolled his eyes. If he hadn't wanted them to overhear, he would have stepped outside.

 

                His gaze lingered on Hiyori. Out of all of them, he suspected that her Hollow would be the toughest to deal with, not to mention the blonde had taken to avoiding him most of the time, sullen and glaring at him whenever they were in the same vicinity. Like now. Ichigo guessed that she probably hadn't taken to his reaction at their initial meeting very well.

 

                He’d have to confront that issue sooner or later, preferably later, which was why... well, best for last and all that.

 

                “Hirako,” He said instead. “How close are you to getting through to Sakanade?”

 

                The older Visored lowered his book again, looking reflective. “...Close. There’s still some conflict when I let my Hollow surface but it’s gettin’ better. Sakanade keeps her mind for the most part when the Hollowfication takes over. I’d prefer if ya take a look ta make sure nothin’s goin’ wrong though. Ya seem ta have a knack for makin’ Hollows listen ta ya.”

 

                This was followed by a smatter of good-natured laughter and ribbing as everyone glanced at Rose, who humoured them all with an exasperated smile in return. Ichigo twitched. Just because it had been Kinshara he had yelled at; he was lucky Rose hadn't held a grudge against Ichigo for running his mouth off (especially since Ichigo didn't regret a single word).

 

                “Hm,” Ichigo grunted, turning his attention back to the phone again. “Hirako’s almost there, and I still have Kensei and Hiyori to work with. How much longer can I stay here?”

 

                Urahara hummed pensively, and Ichigo heard something like papers being shuffled on the other end. _“I would give it another two weeks, three at most. After that, I'm afraid the Shinigami might be sent out en masse to look for their wayward Substitute.”_

 

                A spark of irritation settled in his chest like smouldering coal, most likely accentuated by Hakuran as well, and the words were spat out before he could stop them.

 

                “I’m not _theirs_ ,” Ichigo snapped almost venomously as his mind cast back to the Shinigami badge. He didn't even know why he was so hung up on that issue. Maybe because Ichigo had personally offered his father’s expertise to help Ukitake, and the man hadn't even had the decency to at least tell Ichigo he was being monitored and controlled?

 

                He hated being controlled. Everything from delinquents to yakuza had tried to make him submit for being too brazen, too outspoken, standing out too much with his orange hair and strength and his status as an honours student at school despite being able to single-handedly beat up a gang of thugs, but in the end, not a single one of them had succeeded in making him bow.

 

                He paused at the startled silence on Urahara’s side. “...Sorry. I’ll be back in two weeks, even if I’m not finished here. I can always come back over the weekend or something. Say hi to Chad for me. And Ishida, if he’s finally removed that stick from his ass.”

 

                A huff of amusement reached his ears, followed by a surprised sound. _“Wait, are-”_

 

                _:Get off the line; you take too long,:_ Benihime’s dulcet tones ordered. _:Good afternoon, Ichigo.:_

 

                Ichigo snorted, a fond smile involuntarily quirking his lips. “Hime, it’s been a while. Is the phone floating in the air?”

 

                _:Only in Kisuke’s point of view,:_ Benihime retorted loftily. _:That ridiculous man is taking notes now. How troublesome.:_

 

                Ichigo snickered, shifting so that he could prop his legs on the coffee table. A second later, Lisa’s katana thunked down on his toes in warning, and with a grimace, he put his feet back on the ground again. “So how have you been? Zangetsu’s missed talking with you.”

 

                Benihime sniffed, sounding pleased when she spoke. _:Naturally; who else would he be able to have a proper conversation with? Certainly not that savage Hollow of yours.”_

Ichigo was fairly certain he should be insulted on Hakuran’s behalf but his Hollow was currently being forced into a game of tag with Hageshii Yousei and hadn't heard Benihime. Ichigo definitely wasn't going to enlighten him.

 

                “Yeah, yeah,” He sighed instead, following the two spirits’ progress up and down the length of the sitting area. “Your opinion of my Hollow has been duly note- Hakuran! Hageshii Yousei! Don’t throw the books!”

 

                He ducked just in time as the game of tag turned into a game of war, and Hakuran hurled a dictionary at Mashiro’s spirit, only for the sprite to dance out of the way, giggling madly all the while when the thick tome almost took Ichigo’s head off as it sailed past the spirit.

 

                “Hime, I have to go,” Ichigo said hurriedly as Kensei cursed up a storm when the dictionary smashed into _his_ face instead. “Talk to you when I get back, okay? And if there’s trouble-”

 

                _:-I will inform you in case my idiot wielder gets caught up in another game of manipulation,:_ Benihime finished briskly. _:I undertand. Do take care on your end as well; I would hate to see how much your skill has deteriorated when you come back. You better not be slacking just because I'm not there to oversee your training.:_

 

                Ichigo scoffed, jumping up to snag the book that had been heading for the back of Inoue’s head. “As if I could; Zangetsu and Hakuran would never stand for it. I’ll see you later. Geta-boushi, see you in a week!”

 

                He raised his voice for that last bit just in case the shopkeeper _hadn't_ put the conversation on speaker (which he probably had), and then hung up, watching with no little amusement as the Visored ran around either laughing their heads off or swearing every time another inanimate object went careening through the air.

 

                “This is all your fault, Kurosaki!” Kensei accused, looking downright homicidal when Hageshii Yousei somehow got her hands on some sparkly glitter and the man suddenly found himself coated in the stuff from head to toe. “They were nowhere near this unruly even before the Hollowfication! I didn't even know they _could_ be this disruptive!”

 

                “Spirits keep to themselves for the most part,” Ichigo clarified, thinking back on his own observations. “Normally, from what I’ve seen, they don’t let their wielders know they can wander around out here. But they all seem to... act up around me.”

 

                “Which is why it’s _your_ fault,” Kensei growled, stalking off for a change of clothes and abandoning them to the mercy of Hakuran and Hageshii Yousei’s warpath of terror.

 

                Needless to say, Ichigo spent the rest of his day simultaneously reining the spirits in and cleaning house with the rest of the warehouse’s occupants.

 

* * *

 

 

                “Here,” Kensei grunted, gruffly shoving another icepack at Ichigo. Ichigo tried very hard not to look condemning. Judging by the deepening scowl on the older Visored’s face, it probably wasn't working.

 

                Ichigo huffed and muttered darkly under his breath as he gingerly pressed the cold compress to his jaw. Stupid Kensei. Stupid Tachikaze. Damn, that spirit had a killer left hook, and coupled with the purple armour that had covered even Tachikaze’s hands, the punch had been augmented even further and had broken Ichigo’s jaw. Not even Kinshara had broken any of his bones.

 

                Luckily for him, Inoue had been on hand, but his jaw still ached, which was why Kensei – privately embarrassed or privately guilty; Ichigo couldn't tell which – was waiting on him hand and foot.

 

                Then again, the ‘waiting on him hand and foot’ bit might have more to do with Mashiro scolding his ear off and Inoue pulling her reproachful disappointed face than any sort of embarrassment (or guilt).

 

                However, on the bright side, the bond between Kensei and his spirit was on the mend for the most part, though Ichigo was pretty sure that Tachikaze wanted to punch his wielder in the face as well. More than once.

 

                “Don’t be such a baby,” Kensei commanded grouchily. “It was just a punch.”

 

                “Tachikaze broke my jaw!” Ichigo criticized caustically.

 

                “Do you know how many times _I’ve_ broken my jaw?” Kensei demanded, crossing his arms. “At least a dozen times!”

 

                “So when _you_ break it again, I expect you not to whine about it,” Ichigo sniped back. “I on the other hand have _never_ broken my jaw in my life, so I have every right to complain!”

 

                “If you can complain this much,” Kensei grumbled unsympathetically. “Then you’re perfectly fine.”

 

                “ _Tachikaze broke my jaw_!” Ichigo repeated mulishly, knowing he was probably acting like a child but more than willing to milk as much out of this as possible.

 

                Kensei threw his hands in the air and stormed off towards the kitchen. “Alright, fuck, fine! I will cook you your favourite damn food as a goddamn apology, you _brat_! What the hell do you want?!”

 

                Ichigo smirked triumphantly after the Visored and began listing several of the dishes he liked to eat but hadn't had in a while. Kensei wasn't quite as good as Rose in the kitchen (and neither were as good as Yuzu, in Ichigo’s humble opinion) but the grey-haired Visored was still fairly decent. “I want oyakodon, miso cod, karasumi and daikon pasta, shiso pesto pasta-”

 

                Kensei stuck his head back around the door. “Now I _know_ you're screwing with me; those things don’t even go together in one meal, idiot!”

 

                Ichigo trumpeted loudly, “Tachikaze broke-”

 

                “SHUT UP, KUROSAKI!”

 

                In the air, Hakuran cackled with laughter at the red-faced Kensei who practically had steam coming out of his ears.

 

                Ichigo cracked up as well. In spite of everything, life was kind of good right now.

 

* * *

 

 

                “Hiyori, get your butt down here, dammit! You're the last one left!”

 

                “And that should tell ya somethin’! That dickhead left me for last! He doesn't wanna deal with my Hollow!”

 

                “Stop bein’ a damn child! It doesn't take a genius ta figure out that your situation’s the worst! If he wants ta leave ya for last, who the hell cares! It’s not like he’s refusin’ ta help ya! Now get down here! We’ve already wasted two days cuz ya’ve been runnin’ away!”

 

                “Leave me alone, dumbass! I'm fine with my Hollow like this!”

 

                “Ya stubborn idiot-!”

 

                Ichigo sighed as he let the warehouse door swing shut behind him, muffling the range of voices inside.

 

                He wandered up the street, eyeing the cloudy skies above him. Autumn had settled in, and it looked like it was going to rain and rain buckets. Even the wind carried a chilly bite on its wings, and the entire world seemed to be holding its breath in anticipation of the perilous threat lurking on the horizon.

 

                Ichigo scrubbed a tired hand over his face. Sometimes, it felt like he was doing a little too much, pulled too many different ways, with all these spirit-talks. Just because the Hollows had all merged successfully didn't mean that they didn't still bicker and shout at their wielders or lash out at Ichigo just for the heck of it. There were times in the _middle of the night_ when Ichigo had been jolted awake by Hakuran snarling and deflecting an attack from one of the more volatile spirits in the warehouse. He was fairly certain that even a stab wound from one of them wouldn't necessarily kill him unless it was a direct hit to his heart or something but it would most definitely hurt.

 

                And honestly, he had headaches from all the lack of sleep and the need to play arbitrator for everyone.

 

                Still, the Visored – even Hiyori though she was certainly upset right now – were all visibly happier, lighter, and Ichigo couldn't complain. He’d agreed to this deal after all, and his spars with them were going quite well. He could defeat all the lieutenants and even match a few of the captains, though obviously, no one actually went all out when it was just a friendly spar between allies.

 

                He sighed again. Things would be better when he could return to Karakura. It wasn't that he didn't like the Visored – on the contrary, they could be pretty entertaining – but dealing with them in close proximity twenty-four/seven was wearing on his nerves. He’d always been a bit of a loner at heart, and minus the few hours each day that he spent training with only Zangetsu and Hakuran (and even then, one spirit or another tended to crash the party sooner or later), Ichigo hadn't been able to get any peace and quiet.

 

                A sudden, dull buzz in his ears made him stiffen, dragging him out of his thoughts, and it only took a split second for him identify what it was.

 

                Spinning around and drawing his blade in one smooth motion, Ichigo backed away even as he watched the air in front of him shake and warp, the lips of a Garganta bending the fabrics of space before bursting open like a ripped line of stitching.

 

                “Hirako!” Ichigo hollered, flaring his reiatsu in warning to call the Visored to him. He had no idea what the hell was about to appear, and he knew better than to try and take on an Espada alone.

 

                Half a second after his shout, the sound of a door slamming open echoed behind Ichigo, and a moment later, Hirako was bounding up to stand beside him, Sakanade already unsheathed and levelled at the threat. Within the next few seconds, footsteps rushed up to join them, the _tsing_ of metal slicing through air reaching Ichigo’s ears as all the other Visored drew their blades as well. Even Inoue, firmly placed at the back of the group by Hachi, had Tsubaki out and ready to attack.

 

                “Ya can’t even go outside without attractin’ trouble, can ya?” Hirako remarked dryly as they all peered into the swirl of darkness inside the Garganta.

 

                Ichigo had a free hand so he dutifully flipped Hirako the bird in response.

 

                And then there was no more time for banter as a familiar figure came stumbling out of the Garganta, bloodied and hideously mangled but there was no mistaking that shock of electric blue hair.

 

                Ichigo reacted on instinct, his sword dipping as he reached out with his other hand to catch the critically wounded Espada by the left shoulder.

 

                What was left of it anyway. Half the clavicle and everything below that had been severed clean away, and Grimmjow’s other arm had been cut off as well from the elbow down. His clothes were torn up and there were deep gashes all over his body. His Zanpakutou was still tucked through the sash at his waist but it was splashed with dark crimson.

 

                All in all, the Espada was a mess.

 

                “What the _hell_ happened?!” Ichigo muttered, feeling more than a little sick, and he didn't even think about it as he returned his sword to his back and moved so that he was holding up Grimmjow from the Arrancar’s right side instead.

 

                Unfocused cobalt eyes stared up at him, the glaze of fever already setting in as the Garganta snapped shut behind them. Grimmjow didn't seem to have heard Ichigo as his breaths came in ragged wheezes but the Espada made no move to pull away, going so far as to lean into Ichigo for support, though whether or not that was a voluntary action was anyone’s guess.

 

                “Inoue,” Ichigo mumbled, still staring between Grimmjow’s injuries and the Arrancar’s Zanpakutou as pain brushed against his psyche. It was coming from the Espada, and Ichigo could _feel_ it. He hadn't felt anything during their last battle, even when Ichigo had struck him from behind. With a grimace, he called out louder, “Inoue! Can you heal him?”

 

                Inoue was already hurrying forward, a horrified frown creasing her brow even as her attack spirit was replaced with her three healing ones, but she faltered a few steps away when Kensei’s hand landed on her shoulder.

 

                “Wait, you’re not gonna _heal_ him, are you?” Kensei demanded, disbelief colouring his face. “He’s an Arrancar! And one of Aizen’s to boot!”

 

                “He’s been _tortured_ ,” Ichigo retorted flatly because even if he had never actually seen torture victims before, the wounds on Grimmjow’s body couldn't be mistaken for anything else.

 

                “Probably cuz he disobeyed orders or something,” Kensei dismissed. “People like Aizen wouldn’t treat their subordinates well, especially when they don’t do as they're told.”

 

                “Well I can’t just leave him!” Ichigo protested, shifting as he felt the ghost of missing limbs on his own body. He almost glanced down at himself to make sure his arms were still there. Oh god, he just might throw up.

 

                “Of course you can!” Lisa interjected this time, a harsh scowl on her face. “He’s Aizen’s Espada! That’s the guy you were fighting back in your town, isn’t it? Unless there are other Arrancar with blue hair running around, in which case he’d _still_ be Aizen’s. We can’t go around helping our enemies!”

 

                “Well what do you suggest then?” Ichigo challenged. “Should I just run him through now while he’s down?”

 

                “Yes!” Kensei, Lisa, and even Hiyori all chorused with vehement conviction at the same time. Love and Rose looked to be in agreement while Mashiro and Hachi watched their exchange with silent neutrality. Hirako too looked unreadable.

 

                Ichigo stared, hand convulsing unconsciously at where he had clasped it around the barely conscious Grimmjow’s waist to hold the Espada up. A muscle jumped in his jaw as half his senses were assaulted by the agony and... _something else_ – ...Betrayal? Ichigo at least got the feeling that the Espada wasn't here on Aizen’s orders. – emanating from Grimmjow while his other half tried to sort through the anger quickly topping his emotions.

 

                “I'm not gonna kill him in cold blood!” Ichigo hissed with more vitriol than was probably necessary. “And it’s not like I'm asking _you_ to help! Inoue! Yes or no?”

 

                Inoue started a little, and Ichigo felt momentarily guilty for snapping at her like he had, but he was starting to feel lightheaded. Jeez, how in the world had Grimmjow even managed to open a Garganta in his state, much less drag himself all the way to the Human World? Ichigo most likely would've fainted halfway.

                For her part, Inoue blinked owlishly at him before squaring her shoulders, and something close to reprimand flitted across her features. “Of course I’ll help, Kurosaki-kun.”

 

                Ichigo winced and offered an apologetic look. Inoue had one of the most compassionate hearts out there; questioning her willingness to offer aid was plain offensive.

 

                “Wait,” Kensei repeated gruffly, hand still braced against Inoue’s shoulder to stop her from moving forward. “This isn’t a smart move, girl.”

 

                All at once, Inoue straightened even further, and she gently but firmly removed herself from Kensei’s grasp before looking him straight in the eye. “Maybe not, Muguruma-san, but I trust Kurosaki-kun’s judgment, and if he says we should help Grimmjow-san, then, that’s what I’ll do. And besides, I also refuse to simply leave him to die. That’s wrong, and I won’t have any part in doing so.”

 

                Her earnestness surprised all of them, Kensei not even making another grab for her, and Ichigo was abruptly filled with an overwhelming sense of gratitude as Inoue blushed at her own forwardness and hastily picked her way over to his side.

 

                “Kurosaki-kun, could you put him down in a sitting position?” Inoue requested, and Ichigo quickly nodded, deferring to Inoue’s expertise. Carefully, he lowered the Espada to the ground, cautiously leaning Grimmjow against the trunk of a nearby tree as he watched half-lidded blue eyes slide fully shut. As soon as he could let go, Ichigo withdrew his hands, unable to stop himself from rubbing his arms and flexing his joints to remind himself that they were still there.

 

                “I’ll go get some water and cloth to wash the blood off,” Ichigo stated briskly as the orange glow of Inoue’s Souten Kisshun surrounded Grimmjow. He didn't know the first thing about healing when it came to Kidou or Inoue’s own brand of techniques but he _did_ know a thing or two about how to take care of a person. After all, his own sisters had had their bouts of colds and fevers over the years after their mother had died, and while their dad had been a doctor and had prescribed his fair share of hugs and medicine, Ichigo had been the one to stay home from school and look after them when Isshin had had to go in for work. “And some blankets and a change of clothes. It’s chilly out here and he can’t keep wearing rags forever.”

 

                Inoue nodded in acknowledgement, and Ichigo made to Shunpo away, only to stop when Hirako’s hand slapped against his chest to halt his forward movement. Ichigo almost pitched headfirst to the ground. “Hirako, what-!”

 

                Hirako didn't say anything for a long tense minute, staring at him with unblinking eyes, weighing, assessing, and Ichigo struggled to not squirm under the older Visored’s heavy gaze. Somehow, he got the feeling that looking away was probably not a good idea so he stared back with all the defiance he could muster. If Hirako thought he could stop Ichigo from doing what he thought was right in this situation, then the blond could think again.

 

                “Hachi, Mashiro,” Hirako eventually said without looking away from Ichigo. “Bring the water and a few clean cloths, leave the blankets and clothes. After Orihime-chan has the Espada stabilized and we’ve cleaned him off so that he doesn't look like he’s been sliced up six ways ta Sunday and right back ta Monday, we’ll bring him inside. Rose, Lisa, prepare a room for our new guest.”

 

                There was an instant uproar even as Hachi bowed and Mashiro chirruped an okay before both of them headed back to the warehouse.

 

                “You've gotta be kidding me, Shinji!” Kensei barked, looking mildly stunned. “That’s one of _Aizen’s_ Arrancar we’re talking about here!”

 

                “Yeah, dumbass!” Hiyori added in belligerently, balled fists on her hips. “He could be sent here ta spy on us!”

 

                “And leavin’ him out here would be any better?” Hirako countered sharply, finally turning away from Ichigo. “At least inside the warehouse, the barriers Hachi set up will make sure no one will be able ta track our resident Arrancar. If he stays out here, then Ichigo’s stayin’ out here, and the kid’s still iffy with suppressin’ his reiatsu.”

 

                “Then kill the Espada, problem solved,” Lisa argued back bluntly, eyeing Hirako oddly. “What the hell’s wrong with you today? That’s what we usually do with Hollows, you know, and last time I checked, Arrancar are still Hollows.”

 

                Ichigo stiffened at this, battle-ready. Hirako side-eyed him sardonically.

 

                “Somehow,” The blond drawled with a note of resignation in his voice. “I doubt Ichigo’s gonna step aside and let us. Go, Lisa, Rose. We’ll hold on ta the Espada’s Zanpakutou, and I’ll have Hachi set up a few countermeasures. Agreed?”

 

                The last bit was mostly directed at Ichigo, accompanied with a raised eyebrow that said ‘this is the best deal you’re gonna get; take it or leave it’, and Ichigo nodded readily in agreement. That was fair.

 

                There was some more grumbling, most of the Visored clearly uneasy about this decision but Urahara hadn't been kidding when he had mentioned to Ichigo that Hirako was the de facto leader of this misfit group, and even the other ex-captains yielded to the blond’s verdict in the end.

 

                “Great,” Ichigo muttered, dropping back down to crouch beside Grimmjow, making sure not to touch the Arrancar. He watched, fascinated, as Inoue’s powers began rejecting the damage and reconstructing Grimmjow’s arms. It was amazing. He was fairly certain not even Unohana could do something like this.

 

                “Ichigo.”

 

                Ichigo craned his head around and glanced up at Hirako. The blond tipped his head at the unconscious Arrancar. “You’re in charge of him. If he tries ta kill any of us when he wakes up...”

 

                Ichigo nodded curtly. “I’ll put him down myself; don’t worry.”

 

                And he would, if it came to that.

 

* * *

 

 

                “-different these days, Shinji.”

 

                “What’s that supposed ta mean? Stop standin’ around and pass me the pepper, will ya?”

 

                “It’s beside your elbow; don’t try to change the subject. What I mean is, you've been a bit... out-of-character since you met Kurosaki.”

 

                Ichigo paused just out of sight when he heard his name. His reiatsu was usually dimmed these days in a constant sort of way so that everyone could feel it but no one could actually pinpoint how far or close he was to them. It was a neat trick for someone like him who couldn't subconsciously reel in _all_ his reiatsu every minute of the day.

 

                “You're talkin’ about the decision I made earlier. With the Arrancar.” It wasn't a question.

 

                “Damn straight I am. What the hell happened? He’s the enemy. Even worse, he’s one of _Aizen’s_ pets. Even just weeks ago, you would've killed him without a second thought, especially after he literally opened a Garganta _in our front yard_.”

 

                “Ichigo was in the way.”

 

                “Eight of us against one of him, two if you count the girl. I can’t quite picture us having much trouble pinning them down long enough to dispatch the Arrancar, can you?”

 

                “Kensei, I ain’t walkin’ over the kid just ta kill one guy who isn’t even a threat right now.”

 

                “...Is this because of everything he’s done for us? You being more lenient with him? ’Cause I gotta tell you, that’s weird too. I know you, Shinji; you prefer acting laidback and easygoing most of the time but you're more suspicious of other people than the rest of us combined, and you never let anyone influence your judgment. You're not the type to make a decision just to appease someone, even out of gratitude.”

 

                “Then that should clue ya in ta the fact that I'm not appeasin’ anyone for any reason.”

 

                “Then why? Like it or not, you've changed, just enough for it to be noticeable to us. I'm not saying sparing that Arrancar’s life was a completely bad idea, though it would've been a _better_ idea to just kill him. But it’s not like you.”

 

                “...”

 

                “Look, I like the kid, Shinji, as you obviously do too. He’s helped us, Mashiro thinks he’s a riot, and he’s got the sort of tenacity I can’t resist admiring. He just keeps getting back on his feet no matter how many times you pummel him into the ground in a spar. But even so, he’s still just a kid. _Can_ he kill that Espada if the guy tries to gut us all in our sleep once he’s on his feet again? Kurosaki insisted on saving him; was that kindness or naivety talking?”

 

                “He’s already killed before, Kensei, back when that Espada attacked Karakura, before Tousen showed up. An Arrancar – Di Roy or somethin’ – dead by Ichigo’s hand. Ya don’t have ta worry about the kid bein’ too soft. He’s not. And... didn’t ya see him when he was holdin’ the Espada up?”

 

                “What? I didn't notice anything in particular. Too busy arguing with him.”

 

                “Hm. ...Well, never mind then.”

 

                “Hey, you can’t just leave it at that! Did you notice something?”

 

                “I might’ve; doesn't matter. Just drop the issue. I trust Ichigo ta know what he’s doin’ and the consequences of takin’ a potentially harmful enemy inta our home. Trust me on this, Kensei.”

 

                “...Alright, whatever. But if Aizen shows up on our front step, don’t think I'm above saying ‘I told you so’.”

 

                “Duly noted, now go set the table.”

 

                Ichigo ducked away on silent footsteps. So Hirako had seen his... discomfort when he’d been touching Grimmjow. Not surprising, he supposed; Hirako was unexpectedly observant when he wanted to be. Had the blond guessed how much of the Espada’s circumstances Ichigo had managed to glean just through physical contact?

 

                And more importantly, was Ichigo’s... ability getting stronger? Or just manifesting itself in a different way? After all, Grimmjow was a Hollow with Shinigami powers, possessing a Zanpakutou but not a spirit. A sealed state and an unsealed one instead of a separate Shikai and Bankai. Grimmjow himself might as well be a Zanpakutou spirit in that aspect, so was that why Ichigo could sense a little of what the Espada had been feeling?

 

                Ichigo scrubbed a frustrated hand over his face. Either way, the sooner he finished up here, the better. Once Grimmjow was on his merry way, and Hiyori’s spirit had been talked around, Ichigo’s life could go back to the relatively straightforward train-this-fight-that-no-unnecessary-crazy-nonsense style that it had been before Hirako had first stepped foot in Karakura.

 

                No offense to Hirako of course, since apparently, the blond Visored was pretty much his only supporter around here.

 

                He sighed. How annoying. He missed the days when the most he had to worry about was Sougyo no Kotowari popping up unannounced.

 

                Then again, they had done exactly that three times already while he had been in the Visored’s home, clamouring for him to play their favourite game. At least now he could give almost as good as he got with his growing arsenal of Kidou spells.

 

* * *

 

 

                “Ichigo. Ichigo, wake up.”

 

                Ichigo jerked a little out of his slumber, grimacing when his neck complained as he straightened from his slumped position. Blinking blearily, he peered up at the Visored standing over him, frowning in confusion when he found Hirako smirking with amusement.

 

                “Wh-” Ichigo nearly bit his tongue off when he finally registered the weight on his chest and the head of orange hair resting there. “Inoue!”

 

                “Shh!” Hirako hushed with an even wider smirk. “Now don’t go wakin’ her up; it’s not nice.”

 

                Ichigo gave him the stink-eye even as he fought down the heat in his face. Shit, he remembered falling asleep in the chair he was currently sitting in (and neatly placed beside Grimmjow’s bedside because the Arrancar _always_ started shifting restlessly whenever Ichigo left the room, and that wasn't good for the whole healing process), and he recalled Inoue keeping him company, chatting quietly about schoolwork before they had moved on – somehow – to Inoue’s brother and Ichigo’s mother, tentatively trading stories about the family they had each lost, and Ichigo had been surprised at how easily the words came when he had told Inoue about Masaki.

 

And then they’d sat in comfortable silence, and that must've been when Ichigo had nodded off, and Inoue had probably done the same before unknowingly sliding over onto him.

 

                He huffed but he was careful not to jostle the girl sleeping on him. This was going to be embarrassing when Inoue woke up.

 

                “I hate you,” Ichigo evenly informed the other conscious occupant in the room. “Just so you know.”

 

                Hirako snorted, crossing his arms as he leaned a hip against the nearby desk. “Uh-huh, whatever ya say. Ya hungry? Ya missed breakfast.”

 

                Ichigo rolled the crick out of his neck the best he could without moving too much before shaking his head. “No, not right now.”

 

                “Good,” Hirako hopped up onto the desk, sitting cross-legged on it as he pulled out a notebook and a pen. “We have ta talk.”

 

                Ichigo eyed the older Visored warily. “Talk about what?”

 

                Hirako twirled the pen between deft fingers before jabbing the end of it at the still unconscious Grimmjow. “Him. And what happened when ya touched him. Amongst other things.”

 

                Ichigo stiffened. “There’s nothing to talk about.”

 

                Hirako deigned this answer with a roll of his eyes. “Don’t bullshit me; it won’t work. Look, Ichigo, for better or worse, ya’ve got this fancy little ability ta see spirits and feel what they’re feelin’. The next step is knowin’ what ya can do with it. Ya’ve got a useful skill; it’d be a waste, and frankly dangerous, if ya don’t even know the extent of it.”

 

                Ichigo scowled. “It’s not _dangerous_ -”

 

                “Dangerous,” Hirako repeated adamantly. “Don’t think I didn't see ya rubbin’ your arms after ya let go of Little Boy Blue over there. What if ya keel right over next time ya touch a comatose person? I'm not sayin’ that that’s what’ll happen but ya gotta admit it’s a real possibility.”

 

                Ichigo’s scowl deepened but he couldn't refute this logic. “Alright, fine, what do I do then?”

 

                Hirako waved the notebook. “I've made a list of what ya can do – talk ta spirits, interact with them to the point of gettin’ injured by them if they attack ya, feel what they’re feelin’ either through touching them or through crossing blades with their wielders. On the other hand, _they_ can jump from their wielders to ya anytime and anywhere, tell ya whatever they’ve heard from wherever they've been, and so on and so forth. Then we’ve got the Arrancar and what ya can do with _them_. When ya fought Grimmjow the first time, did ya pick up anythin’ from him?”

 

                “Uh, no,” Ichigo answered somewhat dazedly. Hirako had certainly given all this some thought. “Not the first time, not even when I cut him from behind just before Tousen showed up.”

 

                Hirako grunted absently as he scribbled something down. “Okay, so it looks like your ability is gettin’ stronger. Colour me surprised; nothin’s ever simple with ya, is it? D’ya think ya can shut out what ya feel from whoever ya touch?”

 

                Ichigo shrugged, still mindful of Inoue. “I’ve never tried. I-”

 

                He blinked when Hirako flipped out his Zanpakutou, extending the tip of the sheath towards him. “Try now.”

 

                Ichigo heaved a sigh but gingerly closed a hand around the red sheath.

 

                Nothing. Not so much as a whisper.

 

                He let go and shook his head. “I can’t feel anything like this. I don’t think it works this way, or at least not yet. When I feel things from spirits or Zanpakutou or even Arrancar, it’s when their emotions are going haywire. Besides, when Shinigami cross blades, I think most of them can feel at least a little of what their opponent is feeling; I just pick up a bit- okay, a lot more than that, but otherwise, I can’t feel any extra emotions or thoughts when nothing’s going on. Like, when Hiyori came at me with her Zanpakutou that first day, she was pissed, not to mention her connection with Kubikiri Orochi was – and frankly still is – downright awful so I could feel exactly what her Zanpakutou spirit was feeling. Right now though, you and Sakanade are getting along pretty well, and you’re not particularly emotional at the moment, so I can’t feel anything coming from either of you.”

 

                Hirako hummed noncommittally, writing something else down. Ichigo rolled his eyes before flicking his gaze up to where Sakanade had just appeared, stretching languidly before padding down to the desk and curling up at Hirako’s side. It was still a bit jarring for Ichigo to see such cat-like behaviour from something that clearly had a woman’s face but Sakanade was a sphinx in the end so the strange human-lion hybrid still fit.

 

                Sakanade glanced over at him, a flicker of amusement ghosting over her features as if she knew exactly what he was thinking, and then she promptly yawned, showing off gleaming fangs before pressing further into Hirako’s side and cushioning her head on her front paws.

 

                It was somewhat sad, Ichigo mused as he watched the spirit. That Hirako couldn't see or even feel Sakanade’s presence beside him. Sure, the older Visored could meet his Zanpakutou spirit anytime (now) through meditation but Sakanade was always there, always at Hirako’s side, and Ichigo wondered if maybe it didn't get a little lonely for the spirit at times. For any spirit, really.

 

                It honestly was a pity. If only-

 

                “What the hell?!” Hirako yelped, dropping both pen and notebook, and jerking sideways as his gaze snapped down to where Sakanade was now glowering at him irritably for moving. Hirako blinked rapidly for a few moments, bewilderment evident on his face as his eyes roamed from a spot over Sakanade’s head to her left paw, not able to see but clearly having felt _something_.

 

                Ichigo froze. Hirako turned to look at him. Shock didn't even begin to describe what they were _both_ feeling.

 

                “Ichigo,” Hirako said faintly. “Sometimes, ya seriously scare me.”

 

                Ichigo felt for him. Sometimes, he scared himself.

 

* * *

 

 

                Ichigo couldn't make Hirako feel Sakanade again, especially when all the noise they were making eventually jolted Inoue awake, and she was stammering apologies and blushing and fleeing the room before Ichigo could get a word in edgewise.

 

                In the end, Hirako tossed him the notebook and told him to experiment with the extent of his ability. As the blond had told him, Hirako was no expert on whatever it was Ichigo could do, and while he could brainstorm with him, there wasn't much else that the older Visored – or anyone else – could contribute.

 

                Worse news, Hiyori was still stubbornly refusing to work with Ichigo so Shinji was – once again – off to cajole/blackmail/threaten her into submission. Or try to anyway, which was probably going to take a while before the man got any success out of it. Ichigo wished him good luck.

 

                But fortunately, or maybe not so fortunately, this left plenty of time for Ichigo to deal with Grimmjow.

 

                Who had woken up at last (nearly giving Ichigo a heart attack when he had returned to the bedroom and found impassive blue eyes staring straight at him) but hadn't moved an inch from the bed except to sit up against his pillows and flex his newly restored limbs.

 

                “...So,” Ichigo started after the silence went beyond the point of suffocating. When in doubt, full steam ahead. “How do you feel, bastard?”

 

                An instant sneer appeared on the Arrancar’s face, which was frankly better than no expression at all. “What do you think, Shinigami?”

 

                “I’m not a Shinigami,” Ichigo automatically corrected. His gaze momentarily flitted to the side, biting back a wry smile at the sight of Hakuran lounging in the air with his feet pseudo-resting on top of Grimmjow’s head. Ichigo shook his head minutely; Hakuran stuck out his tongue and didn't move.

 

                With an inward sigh, Ichigo gave up and turned back to the bedridden Espada. Grimmjow’s sneer had faded; he was now staring at Ichigo again, gaze sharp and surprisingly shrewd for someone who seemed little more than a brawler at first glance.

 

                “Okay, well, skipping past your health then,” Ichigo scowled, crossing his arms. “What the hell are you doing here?”

 

                Grimmjow gave him a look that clearly questioned his higher mental faculties. “ _You_ brought me in here; how the fuck would I know why you’d do something as stupid as let an enemy waltz into your territory?”

 

                Ichigo sighed. Patience. Patience was key. Zangetsu was _always_ preaching patience because – surprise, surprise – Ichigo had a temper problem.

 

                “I just didn't want you bleeding out all over the front lawn,” Ichigo shot back. “It’s bad for the decor. _You're_ the one who came to us. I don’t know how you managed it or why but there’s no way it was just a coincidence that your Garganta opened practically on our doorstep. Why you’d want to confront anyone besides a doctor in the state you were in is beyond me but how did you even know we were here? Are you after me? Or the others?”

 

                At this, Grimmjow scowled darkly, jaw working for a moment as if he wanted to say something but wasn't sure what to say.

 

                “...Not them,” The Arrancar muttered at last.

 

                Ichigo frowned in confusion. “What?”

 

                Grimmjow made a noise of irritation before spitting out like every word was costing him, “Not _the others_ ; _you_! I don’t even know who ‘the others’ are! And I sure as hell don’t know what this place is! It’s _you_! You did something to me! I was in Hueco Mundo for fuck’s sake and I could still sense you!”

 

                Ichigo froze. “Wait, what? You could sense where-? Wait, then, do the other Espada know? Does _Aizen_ know?!”

 

                Grimmjow rolled his eyes. “How should I know? I didn't tell any of ’em if that’s what you're asking.” He paused, grimacing. “Not like I had the time; fucking Aizen did a hell of a number on me and all I was thinking about was gettin’ outta there. That’s when I sensed you, I guess. I didn't know where you were; I just knew how to get to you. So,” An accusing glare. “What the fuck did you do to me?”

 

                Ichigo immediately bristled. “I didn't do anything to you! You should just be grateful you found me in the first place! You looked like shit when you came stumbling out of that Garganta! Why the hell would you serve a guy who basically tortured you just for disobeying orders anyway?”

 

                Grimmjow just sneered and didn't answer, neither denying nor agreeing with Ichigo’s assessment.

 

                Ichigo heaved a sigh. “Okay, well, what do you plan on doing once you're back on your feet then?”

 

                The – former? – Espada gave him a strange look. “What, you're not gonna throw me in a cell?”

 

                Ichigo rolled his eyes. “Do I look like a Shinigami officer to you? I don’t have the authority to arrest you even if I wanted to. No, you can walk out as soon as you're back on your feet. Although,” His expression tightened with grim resolve. “If you try to hurt my friends or come after me again, then we’re gonna have problems. So I guess the question now is – will you be going back to Aizen?”

 

                For a long minute, Grimmjow only stared at him, and just as Ichigo was beginning to think he had inadvertently given the bastard brain damage or something, the Arrancar abruptly started laughing. It wasn't a nice sound, more mocking than anything else.

 

                Ichigo arched an eyebrow as he tried to keep a rein on his temper and wait the Arrancar out. Finally, he snapped irritably, “Dude, if you're gonna die laughing, do it sooner rather than later. I’ve got better things to do than sit here and watch you bust a gut.”

 

                “Yeah?” Grimmjow snorted around an obnoxious snigger. “Like what? Got other Espada lined up for you to play nursemaid to?”

 

                Ichigo ran a frustrated hand through his hair. God, was he not communicating properly or what? “I asked you a simple question,” He bit out. “All it requires is a simple answer. Though if it’s a yes, then the next time we fight, you can be sure I’ll kill you.”

 

                Grimmjow sneered but didn't snipe back something about Ichigo not being able to win or whatever. “And if my answer’s no?” He scoffed instead.

 

                Ichigo rolled his eyes. “Then I guess you’ll be sticking around. Look,” He pinned the Arrancar with a hard stare. “Aizen’s going down, one way or another, and you can either be caught in the crossfire, or you can stay the hell out of it. I'm not gonna ask you to fight for the side of good or what-the-fuck-ever, I'm not stupid enough to think in all black-and-white anyway, so I’d be perfectly happy if you just... sat on the sidelines while it’s all going down. You could go back to Hueco Mundo, disappear and hope Aizen doesn't find you ’cause after the mess he left you in, I doubt he’s gonna be all that friendly. Or you could... stick around, like I said. You’d have to lay low but I could vouch for you to Urahara-san – he’s a- friend of mine – and he could make you a Gigai so that you could stay in the Human World without attracting too much attention. Of course, if you wanna do that, you’d probably have to stay hidden anyway instead of wandering around too much; Karakura is crawling with Shinigami right now.”

 

                By the time he finished, Grimmjow was watching him with an expression that reinvented disbelief. “And you're just gonna let me go if I say I’ll stay out of it?”

 

                Ichigo shrugged. “Yeah, pretty much. Look, I'm not an officer of the Gotei 13; I don’t have time to guard you twenty-four/seven so I'm just gonna have to take your word for it. If you wanna run back to the guy who put you through the butcher house, feel free. I can’t really stop you. But like I told you, if we meet on opposite sides of the battlefield again, I’ll kill you.”

 

                Grimmjow looked positively contemptuous. “You couldn't if you tried.”

 

                “I don’t have to try, I _will_ ,” Ichigo promised bluntly. “Your boss – _ex_ -boss if you're smart – is a mountain above your level, and with the way things are going, I'm probably gonna have to face him sooner or later. If I can’t even beat you, then there’s not a snowball’s chance in hell that I’ll beat Aizen. And I _have_ to beat him; otherwise, he’ll keep coming after me and my friends, and that’s not how I want to live the rest of my life.”

 

                He fell silent, studying Grimmjow for a long moment before heaving a short sigh and shaking his head. “Well, it’s your choice, in the end.” He glanced at Hakuran – still hovering above Grimmjow’s head – and Zangetsu – leaning against the far wall.

 

                _:Ya tried,:_ Hakuran shrugged. _:He wants ta go back ta Aizen, it’s his funeral. Honestly, why the hell should we even care?:_

 

                _:Every person is responsible only for their own decisions,:_ Zangetsu added in a quiet murmur. _:Nothing more, nothing less.:_

 

                Ichigo suppressed a tired smile. If only it was that easy.

 

                He looked back at Grimmjow. The Arrancar was frowning again, more perplexed than patronizing now.

 

                A knock interrupted them before either of them could say anything else. Ichigo craned his head around to find Hirako leaning against the doorframe.

 

                “Phone call for ya,” Hirako tossed him the mobile. “Kisuke’s on-”

 

                _:Ukitake suspects your father.:_

 

                “-the phone.” Hirako finished just as Ichigo exclaimed, “ _What?_ ”

 

                “...What?” Hirako squinted at him.

 

                Ichigo wasn't even looking back anymore, gaze focused several feet to the right instead where an impatient Benihime was floating.

 

                “‘Suspects’?” Ichigo began running through all the terrible scenarios that could've happened. “What did that idiot do now? Has he been arrested? Am I gonna have to stage _another_ invasion? I don’t have time for another jailbreak!”

 

                _:Calm down, boy,:_ Benihime sighed. _:Nobody’s been arrested. Ukitake came for another checkup, this time at the Shouten, and the Kuchiki girl happened to be accompanying him. The new Gigai Kisuke made for your father alters perception, changing the wearer’s appearance in the eyes of others. However, your Kuchiki friend-”_

 

                -already knew what my dad looks like,” Ichigo finished, rubbing a tired hand over his face. “So she gave the game- wha- Hirako-?”

 

                “ _Phone_ ,” Shinji growled, shoving the handheld next to Ichigo’s ear even as his eyes flicked a brief warning over Ichigo’s shoulder to where Grimmjow was still laid up in bed.

 

                Oh, right. Damn, he was losing so much sleep that he was also losing his mind.

 

                “Urahara-san, on a scale of let’s-slip-Ukitake-san-a-hallucinogen to I-need-to-smuggle-them-out-of-the-country-stat, where is my family at?” Ichigo asked briskly as he ducked out of the room for some privacy, Benihime and his own spirits trailing after him while Shinji took over guard duty.

 

                _“Good afternoon to you too, Kurosaki-san,”_ Urahara greeted in a rather dry tone of voice. _“I’d say we’re somewhere at the Urahara-sama-can-still-lie-his-way-out-of-this-for-his-favourite-student stage.”_

 

                “Oh good,” Ichigo shot back. “Now I won’t have to head back to Karakura early to kick your ass.”

 

                _“So uncute,”_ Urahara lamented. Ichigo kind of wished he could invent a way to punch the guy in the face over the phone right about now. _“I only called to inform you of the situation, although I suppose I should've just sent Benihime to begin with. I have everything under control – Kuchiki-san has been briefed about the deception, though she thinks it’s because you just want to keep your family out of Shinigami business as much as possible, and Ukitake-taichou is... not someone you have to concern yourself about. So just concentrate on finishing up on your end, preferably post haste. The Shinigami are getting antsy. Antsier.”_

 

                Ichigo snorted, feeling some of the anxiety in his gut dissipate. “I’ll be back soon. Soon-ish. Hiyori’s being troublesome, and... we have a- er, guest.”

 

                _“Yes, a rogue Arrancar, or so I’ve heard,”_ Urahara sounded amused.

 

                Ichigo just sighed. “You won’t tell the Shinigami about him, right?”

 

                A huff of laughter drifted over the line. _“I can assure you, Kurosaki-san, I am not in the habit of telling the Shinigami anything of importance.”_

 

                “You're not in the habit of telling _anybody_ anything of importance unless it suits your plans,” Ichigo pointed out dryly.

 

                _“Now that’s not true; I wouldn't have bothered calling you if that were the case.”_

 

                “Well you did say I'm your favourite student. Exceptions have to be made.”

 

                _“Perhaps, though would now be a bad time to point out that you're also my only student?”_

 

                “Okay, then how about ‘exceptions have to be made for only students if the teacher doesn't want to get another elbow to the face for keeping secrets when he shouldn’t’?”

 

                _“That’s a step up; I'm so proud of you, Kurosaki-san!”_

 

                _:Are you two quite finished?:_ Benihime cut in just as Ichigo opened his mouth to snark something back because Urahara could be a real sarcastic bastard. He blinked up at the Zanpakutou in confusion instead. “Um?”

 

                Benihime’s eyes rolled behind her mask. _:Oh for heaven’s sakes, Kisuke has been bored without you around but I didn't think he was_ this _bored.:_ She eyed him critically for a moment. _:You on the other hand look like you could use a week’s worth of sleep. What do your babysitters think they're doing slacking on the job?:_

 

                “Last time I checked, I don’t need babysitters,” Ichigo grouched out.

 

                _:And last time_ I _checked,:_ Benihime retorted with faux pleasantry. _:You find your way into more trouble than an army of five-year-olds high on sugar. Offering sanctuary to Arrancar now? What’s next? Befriending a Shinigami traitor?:_

 

                “Yeah, no, I don’t think you have to worry about me and Aizen getting chummy anytime soon,” Ichigo scoffed.

 

                _:With you, one never knows,:_ Benihime muttered rather darkly. _:And there are two others besides Aizen.:_

 

                It was Ichigo’s turn to roll his eyes. “I am overwhelmed by your faith in me.”

 

                _:I should hope so. Anyone else would've given up on you already.:_

 

                _“Kurosaki-san?”_ Urahara interrupted mildly. _“Should I hang up now that my Zanpakutou seems to have stolen your attention from me?”_

 

                “Huh?” Ichigo hastily tuned back in on the conversation he had been having over the phone. “Oh, sorry, was there anything else?”

 

                A doleful sigh rustled down the line. _“It’s a sad day indeed when someone prefers Benihime’s company over mine.”_

 

                Benihime smirked at the decidedly petulant tone of her wielder. Ichigo pinched the bridge of his nose. Not for the first time, he suddenly felt like the only adult in the immediate vicinity.

 

                “If that’s all, I'm hanging up,” Ichigo announced. “I appreciate the heads-up though, Urahara-san.”

 

                _“Yes, yes, I thought you might.”_ A few seconds’ silence. _“...Do come home soon. Even your friends have been coming by my shop more often asking after you. It’s getting rather exasperating.”_

 

                _:Don’t believe a word coming out of that liar’s mouth,:_ Benihime advised as Ichigo hung up. _:Your friends haven’t stopped by anymore than usual. He’s just jealous Hirako’s gotten his paws on your spiritual talents all to himself for so long.:_

 

                “I feel so loved,” Ichigo deadpanned. God, he felt like two children’s favourite toy. Although, to be fair, Hirako wasn't all that fussed about Ichigo’s ability to talk to spirits beyond how it affected Ichigo, unlike Urahara who still summoned up puppy-dog eyes while hinting at a few experiments whenever Ichigo was in the room. It was times like this that their respective ages showed; Hirako was definitely the more responsible of the two.

 

                “So why are you here?” Ichigo peered up inquisitively at Benihime. “Thought we had a deal – you stay in Karakura-”

 

                _:I do recall, yes,:_ Benihime cut him off with a wave of her hand. _:But I wanted to see how your training was coming along since you've been stuck here longer than expected.:_ She gave him a dangerous smile. _:That isn’t a problem, is it?:_

 

                Ichigo sighed. “Of course not. Just...” He scrubbed a weary hand through his hair, missing the way Benihime’s gaze narrowed.

 

                _:The rabid mutts you've been living with have been slipping their leashes, haven’t they?:_ Benihime enquired, and the silkily lethal quality of her voice made him glance up again in alarm. His eyes widened when he found her katana already unsheathed.

 

                “Hey hey! No! Bad! I mean-” He swiftly amended at the affronted look she directed at him. “-I'm fine, Hime. There’s no need to go chopping up other spirits for no reason.”

 

                _:‘No reason’?:_ Benihime echoed. _:Ichigo, I was not joking when I said you look like you could use more than a catnap or two.:_

 

                “It’s just been busy around here!” Ichigo protested. “I can sleep when I'm dead.”

 

                _:You_ are _dead,:_ Benihime pointed out sardonically. She levelled her blade at him. Ichigo went a bit cross-eyed for a moment staring at it. _:Go get some rest.:_

 

                “Look, I _can’t_!” Ichigo finally snapped. “The spirits around here are... kinda volatile even though they're better now. Their tempers aren’t the best, and since I'm the only thing alive that they can mess with in the outside world, they tend to pick fights with me even in the middle of the night. Hakuran and Zangetsu fend them off well enough but I wake up whenever they react so...”

 

                He trailed off. What little he could see of Benihime’s expression had frozen over. In contrast, her green eyes simmered with restrained fury.

 

                But instead of blowing up as she often did whenever Hakuran drove her up the wall, she only motioned at him with her katana again. _:Very well; I understand.:_ Her voice was comparable to a glacier.: _Then you can get some rest while I stand guard.:_

 

                Ichigo blinked. “What?”

 

                Benihime rolled her eyes, cuffed him around the head, and then shoved him to get him moving. _:Go. Sleep. Now. And you!:_ She whirled to pin a glare on Hakuran. _:I realize that violence is practically hardwired into your walnut brain, but you will refrain from fighting while Ichigo is asleep. Otherwise...:_ Her katana glinted ominously under the hallway lights.

 

                Hakuran snorted, not looking the least bit impressed, but uncharacteristically enough, he didn't throw back an insult either.

 

                “Wait, Hime-”

 

                _:I can’t train you if you're half-asleep,:_ Benihime said sharply. _:A proper amount of rest balances out a rigorous training menu, and it’s obvious to anyone with eyes that you've been getting more of the latter than the former. Now if I have to repeat myself one more time, you won’t like the consequences. March!:_

 

                Ichigo marched. There was no arguing with Benihime when she got like this.

 

                “Kurosaki!” Kensei accosted him a few seconds later, Tachikaze stalking behind him. “Finished with your Arrancar? We can spar- ow!” The Visored grimaced, one hand coming up to rub at his forehead. “Damn headaches; is Tachikaze acting up again?”

 

                Ichigo didn't answer right away, too busy watching Tachikaze saunter up, a challenge in his eyes, only for Benihime to step forward in a swirl of red and gold, and without so much as a by-your-leave, she lashed out with a lightning-fast flick of her wrist that sent Tachikaze staggering backwards. Her katana came away bloody, leaving a line of crimson slicing diagonally down Tachikaze’s torso.

 

                _:That was a warning,:_ Benihime declared, voice cold and hard and uncompromising. It was a tone Ichigo had never heard before, not from her. _:You may spread it to the rest of the uncivilized pigs lurking in this place – if you or any of the others dare to harm this boy again, I will take payment out of your hides without mercy. Am I understood?:_

 

                Tachikaze glowered, always eager for a confrontation and – in fact – looking ready to throw down right then and there, but then Hakuran was darting forward, teeth bared in a mockery of a grin and fingers curled into claws, and Zangetsu was sweeping up to stand beside Benihime in a looming mass of daunting shadows, gaze stern and dark and endless as a black hole, and with all three lined up like that, it was enough to make anyone falter.

 

                Tachikaze fell back.

 

                _:I told ya, King,:_ Hakuran threw over his shoulder. _:We shoulda threatened ’em sooner! None o’ that pansy let’s-talk-it-out bullshit ya’ve been yammerin’ on about!:_

 

                Ichigo just sighed again and gave in to the inevitable. Yeah, he had told Zangetsu and Hakuran to only defend, thinking that the Visored’s spirits would settle down sooner or later, but it seemed they would have to resort to the assertive approach after all. He could coax his own spirits into holding back but now that Benihime was here to urge them on by example, there would be no stopping them from joining her.

 

                “Kurosaki?”

 

                “Yeah, uh, meditate,” Ichigo suggested, breezing past Kensei with a pat on his shoulder. “I'm gonna go get some sleep; I'm tired. See ya later.”

 

                And with that said, Ichigo headed for his room, feeling some of the tension leak out of his frame at last now that he had his three favourite spirits flanking him in a protective orbit.

 

* * *

 

 

                Over the next few days, most things returned to the norm. Hiyori still evaded getting cornered (Ichigo was pretty sure he was going to have to do something drastic soon if she kept that up), and he and Hakuran could... sort of summon the mouth of a Garganta now, although it was only a sliver of darkness at the moment, too small for anyone to step through. He sparred with Hirako, played tag with Sougyo no Kotowari, and trained with Zangetsu as well as Benihime who now refused to leave. All in all, things continued the way they had for several weeks now.

 

Except for one thing. The third day after their resident Arrancar woke up, Ichigo gained a shadow.

 

Grimmjow didn't speak at first, only tailing Ichigo down to the training grounds but always taking his meals in the room set aside for him. He didn't interact at all with the other Visored, and the Visored were perfectly fine with that. So long as the Arrancar didn't cause trouble, they were content to pretend he didn't exist, although they still kept a sharp eye on him to make sure he wasn't up to anything.

 

Grimmjow hanging around also meant that he – sooner rather than later – realized that Ichigo was either legitimately insane or he constantly mingled with a whole slew of invisible people. Ichigo didn't go out of his way to explain it to the Arrancar, and he tried to avoid conversing with spirits whenever Grimmjow was in his immediate vicinity, but there was no hiding when he was sparring against Benihime or Zangetsu in the basement. It was evident that his Zanpakutou was striking and parrying _something_ , and yeah, it could be troublesome if Grimmjow left and brought that tidbit of information to Aizen, but at the same time, it was Ichigo’s way of extending a little trust in the Arrancar’s direction, and he could only hope that it would pay off.

 

A week after Grimmjow started following him around, it did.

 

“What the actual fuck are you doing?” Grimmjow asked him one afternoon when Ichigo and Hakuran by extension were – once again – attempting to force the space in front of him to split open.

 

Ichigo glanced at him through his Hollow mask, sweaty and increasingly frustrated. “Opening a Garganta?”

 

Grimmjow rolled his eyes. “I hate to break this to you, Shinigami, but you're really fucking not.” The Arrancar got to his feet, staring hard at Ichigo for a long minute. And then he prowled forward to stand next to him.

 

“This is how you do it,” He extended a hand, and with a flick of his wrist, the air twisted before ripping apart, darkness gaping like an open wound. Grimmjow turned a smug smirk on him. “Stop trying to force one open, Shinigami. There should already be doors in the fabric of every plane of existence. You just have to find them and open them.”

 

Ichigo gaped for a few seconds. That sounded almost... scientific. And helpful.

 

As if sensing his thoughts, Grimmjow sneered at him. “Well? What’re you waiting for? I'm only giving you a few tips because your attempts are pathetic to the point of painful. If you're gonna do this, at least do it right.” He glanced away. “You can’t tell me you're gonna beat Aizen if you can’t even do something as simple as opening a Garganta.”

 

Ichigo’s gaze lingered on the Arrancar for a moment longer before he turned away and started searching for a ‘door’.

 

It wasn't anywhere near a declaration of allegiance, and Ichigo had no idea what Grimmjow was thinking or why he had decided on this course of action, but at the very least, this was a start.

 

**Please leave a review on your way out.**

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